white rabbits crept into the glade to nibble on tender young shoots. For a few minutes the couple watched the diners until Isaiah turned to face her on the bench. His sudden movement sent the rabbits scurrying into the brush. Hooking a thumb toward his chest, he patted the location of his heart with a fist and pointed at her.
She knew what this meant. He liked her. Or he loved her. Either way, the sentiment filled her with joy as she repeated the gesture to him.
He shrugged his shoulders and nodded, as though he’d known that particular tidbit for quite some time. Stretching out his long legs, he seemed content to sit in the growing darkness as the bunnies ventured from hiding once more.
She smelled the scent of pine drifting on the breeze and the familiar fragrance of Ivory soap. He must have bathed in the river or showered in the barn just before showing up for supper. Whippoorwills called to one another from nearby trees while crickets and cicadas began their evening chorus. Catherine pulled up the shawl around her neck, not because of any chill but to keep mosquitoes from feasting on exposed skin. She was glad she’d forgotten to grab the can of bug repellant. Somehow its odor might have intruded on the idyllic serenity in Isaiah’s secret garden.
Inhaling a deep breath for courage, she peered into his chiseled face—his high cheekbones and strong jaw, his clear olive skin and dark, shadowy eyes—and broached a subject she’d been mulling over for days. After several misunderstood pantomimes, she finally managed to ask, “Would you go with me to a party?”
It took her a while to convey that other people would be there, men and women around their ages.
He realized that there would be plenty of delicious things to eat and drink, besides a bonfire for roasting marshmallows.
At last, she expressed that the drive wouldn’t be very far by horse and buggy. But she couldn’t convey the concept of a volleyball game—the main purpose of the social event—no matter how hard she tried. He scratched his chin and shrugged his shoulders in confusion.
Catherine decided that a man with Isaiah’s strength and agility would be able to catch onto any game easily, so she dropped her ineffective playacting. “Will you go with me or not?” she demanded.
He stared at her for a long moment, pondering a question he understood perfectly.
“Please?” she begged, with growing fear she had misinterpreted his affection.
“Okay, Cat,” he said. “For you.”
Light had faded in their hidden garden as the sun dropped below the horizon. Isaiah picked up her hand, switched on the flashlight, and led her down the path with the assurance of one who had spent ten years in the woods. Twice she stumbled on unseen rocks. More than once Catherine glimpsed the yellow eyes of critters that wondered who the intruders were in their domain. A flashlight beam illuminated a pitifully small area in absolute darkness. Yet Isaiah hiked back at nearly the same speed they had maintained on the way there.
She clung to his hand, following close on his heels, content that she had a date to a young people’s event before she was no longer young. Without tumbling into the ravine, twisting their ankles, or suffering too many bug bites, they emerged from the forest. And all too soon they rounded the path behind the barn.
Isaiah hesitated, pointing toward light streaming from the barn windows, and motioned to stop.
“Ah, you left the battery light on.” She nodded as he sauntered toward the open doors. Then on impulse, she followed him inside, despite the outbuildings being her least favorite spot. This main barn, with a loft bulging with stored hay bales, had an open ground floor so that buggies could be driven inside during foul weather. Catherine pivoted in the center of the room, scanning the walls and shelves in all directions. Farm tools, gardening implements, and children’s toys hung in neat rows from pegs. After a moment, she spotted what she sought—a beach ball, muddy and forgotten, but serviceable.
“Isaiah!” she called as he was halfway to the shower light. She tossed the ball at him.
Of course, he couldn’t hear her so the ball bounced off his head, knocking off his hat. He turned quickly, picked up the ball, and threw it back at her with an amused laugh.
She clamped her palms together, bent her knees, and returned the ball as though it had been a volleyball serve. Too bad she seldom demonstrated