Goosebumps rose on the nape of Mary's neck as she neared the wagon. She couldn't take her eyes off him. He was cute, really cute, and he had the nicest smile...a smile that reminded her of someone she'd known long ago.
Menno was standing beside him, and the boy with the wheat-colored hair and the wide shoulders was much taller. He had to be six-four, Mary thought excitedly. Finally, an available young man she could look up to.
"That's Caleb," Miriam said, producing a clean mug. "Go on, speak to him," she urged. "Ask him if he wants coffee."
At the name, a memory flashed in front of Mary's eyes. She stopped short and stared so hard that she forgot she was holding the thermal coffeepot. She lost her grip and it slipped through her hands. Vaguely, Mary was aware of Miriam catching the pot just before it hit the ground. Some of the hot coffee splashed on Mary's bare leg, but she barely noticed.
A wave of disbelief swept over her. It couldn't be. He couldn't be. And then, just as she was ready to run back to the house, Caleb Stutzman turned and saw her. He stepped away from the wagon...and lost six inches in height.
Mary's mouth gaped as she realized that he'd been standing on a mounting block used to get into buggies. He wasn't taller than she was. If anything, he was two or three inches shy of six feet.
But worse—far worse—she knew him.
"Mary?" His smile widened as he came closer. "Mary Glick? Look at you." He opened his arms. "All grown up and pretty as a daisy."
"Caleb?" It was him.
Running away was out of the question. She couldn't run far enough or fast enough. A rush of heat stained her cheeks. "What are...what are you doing here?" she stammered.
He strode toward her, seized her around the waist and lifted her high in the air. "Little Mary Glick. I don't believe it!"
"Put me down." She rested her hands on his shoulders, looking away in embarrassment. "People are laughing."
Mary could hear snickers and whispers and Dorcas's mother was scowling at her. "Caleb, please," she whispered desperately.
He lowered her to the grass. "What am I doing here? I, at least, live on the East Coast. What are you doing here? You're a long way from Blessing Creek."
"Ya. I am."
Caleb Stutzman, of all people. She looked at him and then away, surprised that her heart was beating so fast. Why had Miriam been so anxious for Mary to meet him? He wasn't single. Mary had heard that he'd gotten married. She fought a strange sense of disappointment. "Your wife, is she here, too?"
He smiled and used his right index finger to push his straw hat up at a jaunty angle. "You mean Susan?" He shook his head. "Ne. What about your husband? Is he here?"
"She's not married," Miriam supplied. "Not betrothed, either."
"Her mother and father sent her to visit her Aunt Viola," Dorcas said, sliding in to stand between Mary and Caleb. "Since she couldn't find a husband in Oregon, they hoped she'd have better luck here."
If Mary could have dropped on all fours and crawled under the wagon, she would have.