Patchwork Dreams by Laura Hilton

around the shop to talk while they waited for Daniel and Jacob to finish. And sometimes they stayed even after they’d paid for the completed work.
    The dinner bell rang, but with customers still in the shop, Jacob lingered to help Daniel finish up.
    He knew at least one thing: if he could talk Becky into joining him for an outing, then her parents would watch Emma. They seemed to have no hesitation stepping in when Becky was needed elsewhere—or when she disappeared, as she had yesterday.
    Becky needed to be in front of the other men of the community—and she needed to smile and laugh—if she was to have any hope of marrying better than Amos Kropf.
    He’d start asking every day. Eventually, she had to give in.
    And he’d make sure that all the men saw how wonderful, fascinating, and domestically skilled she was. He didn’t know how they could miss it.
    He’d treat her with utmost respect so that no one would see her as loose.
    “This is going to take a bit longer than I thought,” Daniel said to the elderly man who had a bushy beard that reached almost to his waist. “Would you like to join us for lunch, Bishop?”
    Jacob straightened, his eyes narrowing. This man might be the bishop forcing Becky to marry Amos Kropf.
    The man shook his head. “Nein. I’m sure my frau is wondering where I am. I’ll kum back this afternoon.”
    “We’ll get you fixed up.” Daniel turned to Jacob. “You run up to the haus and tell Leah I’ll be there shortly.”
    The day had warmed, dispensing the morning chill. Jacob grabbed his coat and carried it up to the dawdi-haus. He’d take a moment to put it away before going into the main house.
    Maybe he’d take the time to wash up over there first, too. Get some of the grubbiness off before he saw Becky. Even his face felt caked with soot from the morning’s work. A shower would be wonderful.
    “Jacob?” A voice intruded his thoughts.
    He turned to see Becky holding the dinner triangle. She must have been about to ring it again.
    “Where’s Daed?”
    Jacob grinned at her. “He’ll be up shortly.”
    “Gut.” She stood there, staring at him with a strange look in her eyes. Betrayal? Pain? Longing? Maybe a combination of the three. He wasn’t sure.
    Something in his heart hurt. He moved toward her and reached out to touch her cheek. “Bex?”
    A shutter closed over whatever the expression had been. “You have mail.”
    ***
    Becky had planned to tell him that she had changed her mind. That she’d take him up on the offer to take her out for dinner and deal with the flack for shunning Amos Kropf later.
    But the daily mail delivery had put a stop to that fantasy—more specifically, the plain white envelope addressed in flowery script to Jacob Miller and bearing the name of Susie Chupp in the upper left-hand corner.
    Or maybe it was the stamp with hearts on it in the top right-hand corner.
    Or the “I miss you” written on the back flap of the envelope.
    Either way, it was a brutal reminder that he had a sweetheart back home.
    To her shame, she’d been tempted to throw the letter in the fire and pretend it had never arrived.
    Instead, she’d held it and stared, studying this Susie’s handwriting. What words had she written to him?
    Jacob now froze in front of her, a scant foot away, his eyes searching hers. His hand dropped to his side. She didn’t know what he’d been reaching for. “A letter? For me? Is it inside?”
    Ach, why couldn’t she have kept her mouth shut? The letter was in the front pocket of her apron. How was she to explain to him why she hadn’t put it with the rest of the mail? And, worse, that she’d left the letter from his mamm inside the house?
    His mamm wasn’t her competition. Susie, on the other hand, was.
    Her face burned. She pulled the letter from her apron pocket and handed it to him without a word.
    Jacob gave the envelope a dismissive glance before his eyes returned to hers. Searching.
    She took a deep breath. Released it.
    Jacob