A Time to Heal(16)

"Nee?"

"Huh?"

"No?"

"No. I just thought I'd play it by ear. Before I got your services as a tour guide, I mean." He met her gaze. "So I'll leave it up to you."

"Allrecht. I'll take you to the places I think you'd expect to see then."

"Great," he said.

They traveled a little farther without speaking. Then something made him glance over at her. He blinked. Was it his imagination that she looked like she was trying to hide a smile?

She must have felt him looking at her for when she turned her head and found him regarding her curiously, she carefully schooled her expression.





She took him to a bakery filled with tourists eagerly buying traditional baked goods, and they chatted with a friend who worked there.

Chris looked at the vast array and couldn't decide what to get. He'd never seen so many different varieties of cookies, cakes, and pies. A lot of people were buying something called shoofly pie. Chris took a sample, but it tasted overly sweet to him.

The door opened and half a dozen people swarmed in.Where had all these people come from? There were tourists everywhere.

And Hannah was right. There were groups of people— families and senior citizens—but no single men like himself.

"What do the children like?" he asked Hannah while he waited to be served.

She laughed. "Everything. I don't think I've ever found a sweet they didn't like."

"But what's their favorite? They must have one."

"Whoopie pies."

"How about you?"

"I don't want anything, thanks."

"What about Matthew?"

"My brother's a big kid. He'll eat a whoopie pie with the kinner if you bring him one."

He bought a dozen pies so there'd be enough for the children and anyone else who wanted them. Then they joined the throng of tourists who moved toward a store that advertised local crafts.

Hannah led him from shop to shop that specialized in Amish crafts, leather goods, and foodstuffs. He couldn't ever remember shopping so much in his life.

"I thought I might buy a quilt like the one on my bed, but I haven't seen any I like as well as that one."

"Don't rush. There are shops we haven't visited yet."

He groaned. "I thought we'd gone in every store in town."

"Such a faulenzer," she said, shaking her head.

"I have a feeling that's not a good name to be called."

She laughed and shook her head. "Lazy person."

When they finally returned to the buggy Hannah had hitched near the first shops, Chris sank onto the seat with relief. One of the bags in his hand slipped and landed with a plop on the floor, spilling out the handmade Amish doll he'd bought. He bent to pick it up and stuff it back in the bag when he saw the tag on its back.

"Made in China," he read.

Hannah tried to stifle her giggle. Chris lifted his eyes to stare into Hannah's and found them filled with laughter.

"You knew."

She covered her mouth with her hand and then dropped it and laughed out loud. "That particular shop is what some people call a tourist trap. I figured it would be the kind of place you expected."

He stared at her and nodded slowly. "Yeah, I guess I did."

"Sometimes people only see the . . ." she seemed to search for the word. "Stereotypes."

"Like people sometimes do when they find out I served in the military," he said quietly.

Her smile faded. "Ya, I guess so." She was silent for a long moment. "I'm sorry. I guess I don't know what to think about you, Chris."

Leaning back in the seat, he glanced around, then met her gaze. "Why don't you show me what you love about your area?"

Hannah smiled at him. "Schur."

She drove him by several farms and talked about the crops that were raised here during the different seasons. She stopped the buggy and gestured at the fields in front of them.

"We have alfalfa and corn and soybeans and lots of different kinds of vegetables. Even dandelions."

"Dandelions?"

She nodded. "Lots of people love them in salads."

"They're weeds. I'm not eating weeds. Or flowers."

She laughed. "They're delicious in salads. And you should try dandelion gravy."

"Weed and flower gravy. I don't think so."

"If it was the right season for it, I'd make you some and change your mind."

Sighing, she called to Daisy and got the buggy moving again. "It's hard work farming, but the people who do it don't want to do anything else."

"Like Matthew."

"Yes, he's truly a man who loves the land." She fell silent for a moment and then she glanced at him. "And what about you?"

"I missed it—working the farm—while I was away."