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The Birdhouse

By Laura V. Hilton

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Chapter 1

Greta Miller’s hair rose on the back of her neck and her skin prickled in the way it did whenever someone stared at her. She should be used to the attention, used to feeling like a caged circus animal with all the tourists who came into the Amish Marketplace, but this somehow seemed different. She looked away from the boxes of cereal she’d been unpacking, and her glance met Joshua Yoder’s penetrating gaze.
He stood stock-still, not ten feet away. His hand frozen with his hat still in it, held slightly above his head, as if he’d just raised it then stopped, mid-movement. His blue eyes narrowed.
Her mouth went dry. Her chest hammered.
“Greta…” He lowered his hat to his side and approached, a smile slowly forming.
Nein. She couldn’t deal with him and those emotions today. Or any day. Greta turned and fled through the door marked “employees only.” She’d work back there until her shift ended. She glanced at the clock as she dashed past the employee break room.
Fifteen minutes. He should be long gone by then. She wiped away a renegade tear.
After Greta clocked out, she made a few purchases—a bottle of olive oil, a brown jar filled with yeast, a fresh pineapple and avocados for dinner—and surveyed the store. No sign of Josh. She sagged with relief. She hurried toward the door.
“Bye, Greta.”
She waved her hand toward her cousin, Rachel, who’d taken over unpacking the cereal boxes. “See you tomorrow.”
Greta stepped outside and into strong masculine arms that swept her up against his chest and swung her around and around. She screamed, trying to pull away. The man stopped swinging and released her waist. Josh. His hands immediately cupped her face and he pressed his lips against hers. Hard.
Then softened as they moved against hers, igniting an unexpected fire. She couldn’t keep from responding. Something inside her flared to life. She had a brief taste of peppermint before reality set in. No one had the right to kiss her. Not anymore. She shoved her hands against his firm chest.
“Joshua Yoder!”
He let go. Winked. Bent and retrieved his hat, which had fallen off sometime during the assault, plopped it on his head, then turned, jogged away and jumped into his buggy.
Leaving her reeling. In more ways than one.
She grabbed the support beam for the porch overhang. He grinned and waved as he flicked the reins and drove down the road.
The door swished open behind her and the store manager, Joel, stepped out, adjusting his hat against the glare of the sun. “Greta Miller. Must I remind you that we don’t approve of such public displays of affection?”
She couldn’t tear her gaze from the buggy crossing through the four-way stop. Leaving her.
As he’d done so many times before.
She should be used to the rejection, the pain of abandonment.
But then again, she never expected him to come out of nowhere, swing her around and kiss her…
Not after…
Her lips still tingled.
Such strange behavior, even from Josh.
“Greta.” The manager’s voice was sharp. She dragged her attention away from the departing buggy to the bearded man standing next to her, holding out a full, white plastic bag.
“Must I remind you…” He started to repeat the question, but Greta tuned him out. She glanced at the bag—her groceries?—then lowered her gaze to the ground.
She wanted to say “It’s not my fault! He kissed me when I wasn’t even looking!” But that would mean an explanation, and she didn’t have one to give. But really. She was the one assaulted in broad daylight and her boss blamed her? “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” It shouldn’t have happened in the first place.
Especially not after…
The plastic bag jerked as her boss shook the glass contents so they rattled against each other.
Her face heated as she reached for the bag holding her few purchases from just moments before. Hopefully, the avocadoes weren’t bruised. “Ach.” She took the bag from him.
Joel frowned. “What’s gotten into you? You’re so skittish this past year. It’s affecting your work. Probably a gut thing Gizelle is going to start working here.”
Greta cringed. “I’m… I’m sorry. It’s just my daed…” and Josh’s return… Wait. “What? Who? My sister?”
Joel’s eyes softened. “We’re all praying for your daed, Greta. He arranged for Gizelle to take over your job, since you’re going to have other obligations. If she needs some time before she starts—”
“Nein, she won’t.” Not when their family needed every penny to meet their normal bills since Daed’s accident ten months ago. They needed far more than she earned, so she’d spent every free hour making jams, jellies, and other canned goods to sell at upcoming farmers’ markets, festivals, and other events. She’d thought it was only going to be on her days off. But… apparently not. She would spend all her time selling home baked and canned goods while her sister took over her normal job at the grocery store. Tears burned her eyes. Couldn’t her parents at least have discussed it with her and asked her if it was okay instead of letting her find out second hand?
“Have a gut afternoon.” Joel turned away and nodded at a couple of Englisch customers. He went back inside.
Not even a “We’ll miss you?” But he wouldn’t say that. It wasn’t their way. Besides, Joel and Rachel would still see her at church gatherings.
She put her bag of groceries on the front seat of the buggy, tied on her black bonnet, and untied her horse, Whippoorwill, from the hitching post. Then she started home, the sting of betrayal still burning.
A buggy waited on the side of the road. As she started around it, a man stepped out from in front of her. Josh. His straw hat was askew. Sunglasses concealed his eyes. She caught her breath. She’d never dreamed he’d look so good in them. Dark. Mysterious. Handsome. He wiped his hands down the sides of his pants. She flicked the reins.
He reached for the horse, stopping her. “Greta, wait. We need to talk.”
A car inched around them. “The middle of the road is not a gut place.” She probably sounded rude. Another vehicle approached and passed.
“If I come over tonight, will you walk with me?”
They weren’t a courting couple. He’d given up that right long ago. She shook her head.
Josh released Whippoorwill and stepped back. His shoulders slumped. The sunglasses hid his expression, but judging by the way a muscle jumped in his jaw, she imagined hurt glittered in his eyes. He nodded, accepting her answer.
Something the old Josh never would’ve done.
“I won’t bother you again.” His head lowered.
Something inside her shifted and the words tumbled out almost without conscious thought. “Jah, you can come. After dinner.”
He glanced up and his heart-stopping grin appeared. “Danki. We really do need to talk.” He turned back toward his buggy.
Her stomach fluttered. She’d probably regret it.
She and Josh had nothing to say to each other.
Not one single word.
But better talking than kissing for her sanity’s sake.

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