Isaiah glanced around and then rolled his eyes. He motioned for her to hurry along as he pushed the cart up and down the aisles. Catherine assumed he was eager to get the chore over with. Few men enjoyed the usually female activity, so she filled the cart with staples and a few treats without slowing down for speech lessons.
After they loaded cold items into their ice chest and the rest into the back of the buggy, Isaiah offered his hand for her to step up.
She shook her head vigorously and pointed toward the restaurant across the street. His gaze followed to where her outstretched hand indicated. Bringing his attention back to herself, Catherine rubbed her belly and then mimed a person eating an ear of corn on the cob. He laughed and shrugged his shoulders. With relaxed familiarity, she gestured for them to cross the street.
After a moment’s contemplation, Isaiah nodded, rubbed his belly, and offered his arm. She hooked a hand in the crook of his elbow, and they entered the diner like any other courting couple. She tried not to think of them as such. She was afraid she would lose her nerve otherwise. Once inside, they were met with delicious smells and convivial conversation. After finding seats at a booth toward the back, Catherine picked up the menu to study.
Isaiah seemed content to study her. He tried to take her hand, but she pulled it back quickly and picked up her glass of ice water. She was pleased to note that many of the items had photos beside them, and she turned her menu around so he could see. When she pointed to the picture of roast beef, she mouthed the word “moo” like a heifer. For the fried chicken, she flapped her arms as though they were wings, and she did a fairly good imitation of swimming fish for the fried perch dinner. Both spaghetti and meatballs and stuffed roast turkey left her stumped, but she said “baa” like a spring lamb while pointing to the daily special of lamb stew.
It was too bad she wasn’t as good at reading people as she was at pantomiming food dishes.
Isaiah pulled the menu from her fingers, closed it, and laid it on the edge of the table. He was no longer smiling, and his cheeks had flushed to near purple. He glanced around the room and then met her eye with obvious discomfort. His own gestures indicated he wished his meal to be the same as hers…without further discussion on the subject. Then he crossed his muscular arms over Daniel’s shirt and leaned back.
She had embarrassed him. Upon the realization, shame washed over her. When the waitress returned for their order, she ordered them each a burger with fries with a blush almost matching his. By the time their meals arrived, Isaiah seemed to have forgotten his anger. He dipped fries into catsup, added steak sauce to his burger, and devoured both with obvious lip-smacking pleasure. She had difficulty swallowing the dry bun and greasy potatoes, but waited until they had returned to the buggy, away from observers, to attempt to apologize.
Her expression managed to convey her contrition better than any gestures. After a moment, he pressed a finger to her lips to stop her apologies. His eyes softened when she held her fist to her remorseful heart. He tipped up her chin and said clearly, “Okay, Cat. It’s okay.” Then he kissed her.
His lips remained on hers longer than any acceptance of an apology warranted. When he finally pulled back, she was gasping for air. Calm, cool, and collected, Isaiah released the brake, shook the reins over the horse’s neck, and started for home.
Catherine didn’t attempt further conversation during that drive to the Graber farm. For a change she’d been rendered speechless.
Nathan Fisher sat on his porch swing, reading the newspaper, and rocking his son’s cradle with his bare big toe. This was the most pleasant evening in a long while. A short afternoon thunderstorm had washed away the dust and oppressive humidity that had hung in the air for weeks. A cool breeze blew from the south, bringing the soft scent of pine, which was so much nicer than the scent from the sow pen he’d scrubbed out earlier today.
Iris had taken the pony cart down the road to sew with some of her lady friends. She’d left a large slice of cherry pie under plastic