The Proposal at Siesta Key Read online

  Sometimes his parents would talk and sometimes their time on stage would consist of music. But most of the time, it was just him. And because he believed in the Lord’s will so wholeheartedly, he did what was asked of him.

  Again and again, he shared his story about being nearly sideswiped by a car in the mountains of Colorado, sliding into the road’s gravel shoulder, then falling twenty feet into a narrow ravine. His leg had been badly injured. He’d waited for twenty-four hours to be found, with only the will to live and his belief in the power of prayer to keep him company.

  After he’d been rescued, the doctors had done everything they could to save the lower part of his right leg but the damage was just too extensive. In the end, it had been futile. They’d talked to his parents and opted for amputation.

  Some had thought he’d mourn the loss of his right calf and foot, but in truth, Michael didn’t miss it all that much. When he’d been hurt and alone, afraid he was going to die, he’d spent a lot of time praying and making promises to the Lord if he survived.

  Never once had he asked to survive without injuries.

  While in the hospital, a couple of the doctors and nurses asked him to share his story. After hearing it, they’d asked him to speak to their churches. Before long, he’d begun speaking to even bigger crowds, and his family began participating as well.

  Which, of course, brought him to the present. Except now he was tired, hiding how much pain he was in, and, not for the first time, wishing their schedule was not so tightly orchestrated.

  After another five minutes or so, Evan walked to his side. “You okay? You look kind of pale.”

  “Stump’s sore,” he said with a smile, since it was just him and his brother. His mother hated him referring to his injury so bluntly. “I think I need to call it a night soon.”

  Evan’s easy expression turned to concern. “It’s that bad? Do you need anything?”

  “Nah. Just a good night’s sleep. We’ve been on the road for weeks now. My leg probably could use a rest.”

  “I bet you’re right. Well, just so you know, I thought it was a real gut service tonight. There had to have been over a hundred people here.”

  Michael nodded. “I heard almost two hundred. A lot of donations came in, too.” They always collected donations for CAM, Christian Aid Ministry, only taking enough to pay for their living and traveling expenses.

  “Molly and I were thinking of taking the Kaufmanns up on their offer of a late supper. Want to come? You could camp out on their couch.”

  Michael knew the Kaufmanns from their other visits to Pinecraft. They were a nice family, easy to talk to and undemanding.

  But even the thought of being around the Kaufmann family sounded like just another activity he’d have to push himself to get through. He simply couldn’t do it.

  “Tell them thanks, but I’m not up for it tonight. I’m going to walk back to the inn early.”

  “Sure about that?” His tone held a note of doubt. Though his brother liked to tease Michael about the crowds of people he attracted, he was still protective. Evan was two years older than Michael and took his role seriously. “How about I walk you back? Or I can tell someone you need a ride.”

  “Nee, don’t do that.” It was stupid, but even though Michael easily spent two hundred days a year talking to people about his accident, he still hated to be treated any differently. He would have had to be a whole lot worse off to accept his brother’s escort. “I’ll be fine. I just need to take a cool shower and lie down for a while.” And hope his pain reliever would kick in quickly.

  “I’ll tell Molly. Mamm and Daed might stay awhile, but we’ll head back to the inn within the hour.”

  “No need. I’ll either be reading or asleep by then. Take your time.”

  After giving him another long, searching look, Evan finally nodded. “Okay, see you in the morning.”

  Five minutes later, Michael was able to slip out from the crowd and begin the four-block journey to the Orange Blossom Inn. But after two blocks, he was leaning against a fence, hoping and praying the shooting pain that was radiating from his knee would dull. He took one shaky breath after another, doing his best to control the pain.

  He was an idiot. He should have accepted Evan’s help. Pride really was his enemy. As the pain twisted through his leg again, Michael closed his eyes to fight the burning sensation.

  “Excuse me? Mr. Knoxx—Michael—are you okay?”

  He opened one eye to see a woman about his age staring at him with concern. She wore a teal dress, which served to highlight her blue eyes. He thought he’d noticed her in the crowd earlier, but he couldn’t be sure.

  “I’m fine,” he said through clenched teeth. Usually he could fake his way through the worst of it. Tonight, however, it was a different story. It was as if his sore knee had decided it had finally had enough.

  “Um, I’m sorry, but I have to tell you that you don’t look fine. Not at all.”

  What was he supposed to say to that? “Listen, I appreciate your concern. However, there is no reason for it. You ought to get on your way.”

  But instead of listening, she stepped a little closer, even going so far as to bend over slightly so she could look him in the eye. For a moment, Michael was sure she was going to touch his arm or shoulder, but she didn’t. “My name is Penny. Penny Troyer. I was in the crowd tonight. I heard you speak. You were really inspiring.”

  Michael appreciated her words, he truly did. But at the moment, he couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do less than talk about his speech.

  Though he knew surviving the accident and having the ability to talk about it were the Lord’s work, sometimes he felt he spent too much time talking about his own personal trials and triumphs. There were plenty of people who had been through far more harrowing experiences yet never said a word about it. Plenty of people who didn’t talk about their personal tragedies again and again and again.

  Almost as soon as he thought that, Michael felt his insides burn with shame. Who was he to look down upon such a blessing?

  “Thank you for saying that, uh, Penny,” he replied through clenched teeth. “I am glad you enjoyed hearing my story.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh, it was more than that! You have a true gift for storytelling. It’s no wonder that everyone was so excited to see you.”

  “Danke.”

  “You’re welcome. Seeing you truly made my day. Nee, my week.” She smiled shyly. “Maybe even more than that.”

  With a sinking heart, he realized she was making him into something larger than life.

  Every once in a while he met girls who looked at him with stars in their eyes, making him out to be something more than he was, just because he had a story to tell and an appealing way of telling it.

  “Danke.” He smiled, but he knew it was probably strained. He really needed to sit down for a while. Maybe a week.

  “All that is why I wanted to check to see if you were all right. I could help you get to wherever you’re going, if you’d like. May I help you?”

  As much as he would like some help, experience had shown him that going anywhere alone with a female fan was a mistake. “I thank you for stopping, but there truly is no cause for concern. I’ll be fine.” He would. Eventually.

  “Are you sure?”

  Actually, he was not. The incision area burned like nothing he could remember in ages. The fear of finally succumbing to his doctors’ warnings—that he might have to have another surgery, another round of recovery and therapy—petrified him. And that fear made his words a little harsher and his tone a little colder than he intended. “What I’m trying to tell you is that I don’t need you to stand here with me.”

  As if stung, she stepped backward. “Oh. I’m sorry. I guess you must get tired of people always trying to be around you. Wanting to talk to you and ask you questions.”

  He popped his chin up and gritted his teeth. Now he was beyond embarrassed. She was reading him all wrong. She thought he
was acting like some spoiled rock star or celebrity, worn down by adoring fans. “It’s not that. I, uh, do appreciate your concern.”

  “But you’d rather be alone.” Hurt and disappointment glistened in her eyes.

  Obviously, she was trying hard not to cry. Now he felt like a real jerk. “I’m the one who is sorry. I’m, ah, just not in the mood for conversation right now. It’s been a long day, and I’m afraid it’s gotten the best of me.” He ached to tell her that he had serious concerns about his ability to make it back to the inn.

  “Of course.” She took another step backward. “Well, then. Good evening,” she said before turning away and walking quickly in the opposite direction. Closing his eyes, Michael tried to tamp down the guilt he felt. He knew better than to be so ungrateful for her concern, knew better than to send her on her way alone. But he felt like he needed some time to himself. He needed to be selfish, at least for a few minutes.

  “Lord,” he murmured, “I’m sorry. I have a feeling I’ve disappointed You something awful, but I hope You’ll understand. I’m only a man. And sometimes I’m afraid I’m as selfish as anyone.”

  He breathed in, exhaled, then at last felt the burn in his knee start to ease. Deciding to take advantage of that fact, he once again started limping toward the Orange Blossom Inn.

  CHAPTER 3

  Beverly Overholt didn’t need a doctor’s diagnosis to understand that her handsome guest was feeling poorly.

  She could figure that out all on her own.

  After watching Michael Knoxx painfully climb the first two front steps of her inn, grasping the wooden railing with all his might, then pulling himself up each step, she knew it was time to intervene. Seconds later, she was at his side, one arm securely wrapped around his waist.

  “Just a few more steps, Michael,” she said in her best no-nonsense way.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Nee, I think not.” When he stiffened, she kept her voice sure and steady—and laced it with a thorough amount of salt and vinegar, too. “Don’t even try to tell me that you don’t need my help. You do.”

  After another second, he allowed more of his weight to press against her. “Danke,” he muttered, his tone hoarse. “I’d be grateful for your assistance.”

  Though she was glad he gave in without further argument, his easy acquiescence caused even more worry. From his previous visits, she knew that Michael Knoxx’s pride was important to him. He toured the world, preaching God’s word and sharing his stories about self-reliance. As far as she knew, Michael seldom depended on anyone for anything.

  Never had she heard him complain, either—not even about things most people found annoying. Instead, he took everything in stride, whether it was the hot and humid weather, pouring rain, their incredibly busy schedule, or travel glitches. If he was not only struggling with a flight of stairs but also admitting he needed her assistance, he had to be in incredible pain.

  And that concerned her very much.

  After Beverly got him through the broad front door, she led him to the big overstuffed couch just off the entryway.

  He collapsed against it with a sigh. “Thanks again. I was beginning to wonder how I was going to make it inside by myself.”

  Her concern was growing into real fear. “Where is your family?”

  “Hmm?”

  She leaned down, pressed her palm against his forehead. Was he feverish? She couldn’t tell if he was perspiring from the heat, his effort to climb the stairs, or an infection. “Your family, Michael,” she repeated. “Where are they?”

  “Oh.” His eyes focused. “They went to someone’s haus after our meeting.”

  “Do you remember the family’s name? I think it would be a good idea if I sent someone over there.”

  “No need.”

  “I think differently. Michael, whose house did they go to?”

  As she’d hoped, her direct, firmly phrased question got results. “The Kaufmanns’, I think?”

  She relaxed. That was probably correct. She’d known the Kaufmann family for years. Frank Kaufmann had supervised much of the inn’s renovations when she’d taken over the place. Just a few months ago, she’d become better acquainted with everyone in the family when one of her guests had fallen in love with their youngest son, Zack. “I bet it was the Kaufmanns. They’re New Order Amish, so they have a phone. I’ll give them a call and ask someone to let your parents know you’re having some problems.”

  “Please don’t.”

  “I think it would be best.”

  “It isn’t. My brother said he wasn’t going to stay there too long. Besides, there’s nothing they can do except listen to me whine about the pain I’m experiencing.”

  “What is hurting you?”

  “My knee.” Running a hand over his face, he mumbled, “where it was amputated.”

  “I’ve never heard you complain about that before,” she said slowly. “Is this pain something new?”

  He hesitated before nodding. “Jah.”

  “What can I do? Do you need a pain reliever? Ice?”

  Hazel eyes met hers, full of gratitude and relief. “Yes to both.”

  After ascertaining whether he wanted some Advil or some medicine of his own, she trotted off to the kitchen. “I’ll be right back.”

  “I’ll be here.” He gave her a halfhearted smile.

  By the time she returned with a Ziploc bag filled with ice and two tablets, he had taken off his prosthesis, placed his leg on the couch, and rolled up his pant leg.

  She’d never seen an amputated limb before. When she saw the mottled, scarred skin that the surgeons had carefully reworked around his knee, she gasped. Not from the scars, but from the red lines extending from the area. At the very least, he had a bad infection and needed antibiotics.

  “I know,” he said around a grimace. “This leg of mine—what’s left of it—it’s not a pretty sight. Ain’t so?”

  “Actually, I was thinking that it looks very painful.”

  He shrugged. “Tonight it is.”

  “Here, then.” She handed him a glass of water and two pills. After he’d swallowed them, she handed him the bag of ice. “How about a kitchen towel or something to put on your skin?”

  “That would be gut. Danke.”

  Ten minutes later, her guest was lying back against one of the armrests with his eyes closed. She walked to the kitchen in order to give him some privacy, but after a few minutes, she knew that was the wrong place to be. She was too antsy to sit in the back of the house.

  All she could think was that his family was going to be concerned—and that was putting it mildly. Usually she tried not to interfere with her guests’ wishes, even when they were sick or injured. But this time she knew she was going to have to make an exception. Michael needed medical attention, and it was becoming obvious that he had not been letting on just how badly he was hurting. She was going to have to tell his family everything she’d observed. In order not to disturb him in the front room, she walked out the back door and circled around the house to the front, planning to sit on the steps and wait for their return.

  As minutes passed, she watched her porch lights and the solar-powered landscaping lanterns slowly illuminate like the fireflies she’d chased when she’d been a young Amish girl in Ohio. Several years ago, after a failed engagement, she’d decided not to join her order. Instead, she joined the local Mennonite church in Pinecraft and adopted their ways. Now, as she sat in the darkness and waited for the Knoxx Family to return, she closed her eyes and prayed for guidance. The air was fragrant with the scent of orange blossoms and lilacs. Lavender and roses. The scent was heavenly.

  As she heard the laughter of children in the distance and the sound of the traffic on Beneva Rd., she found herself looking to the right, at another inn.

  Where Eric Wagler stayed when he was in town.

  Three months ago, she’d run into Eric by chance at the library and soon discovered that he’d come to Sarasota to claim ownership of her
bed-and-breakfast. How it came to be his was a complicated story and they’d left things unresolved. All she knew was that she’d agreed to run the Orange Blossom Inn for another couple of months while he decided what he wanted to do.

  Her girlfriends thought it was foolish to be so agreeable, and she supposed she didn’t blame them. Part of her ached to rage at Eric, to cry and whine and remind him that she’d put her heart and soul into the bed-and-breakfast while he’d been occupied with his own life. But time had also taught her that crying and whining didn’t solve anything. Most of the time, it was better to simply try to see the other person’s point of view.

  This was hard, because at the moment, Eric held all the cards. She was reduced to relying on his good nature. However, she kept hoping and praying that something would work out between them. But he was supposed to return to Pinecraft by the end of the week, and this time he was planning to take a room at her inn.

  And she was going to have to let him.

  Happy chatter interrupted her thoughts, and when she saw the Knoxx foursome approaching, she got to her feet. “Hello!” she called out.

  They grinned and returned her greeting, but as they got closer, it was obvious that they saw her worry. Mrs. Knoxx’s smile vanished. “Beverly, is there anything wrong?”

  She descended the last three steps to greet them. “I’m not sure, but I’m afraid there might be. Michael is resting on the couch just off the entryway.”

  “What happened?”

  “I don’t want to alarm you, but he seems to be in a lot of pain. His, uh, knee is giving him trouble. Well, the part that attaches to his prosthesis. We put some ice on it, and I gave him two pain relievers from my kitchen cabinet.”

  His parents exchanged worried looks.

  “Thank you for looking after him, Beverly,” Mrs. Knoxx said.

  “It was no trouble and I wasn’t waiting out here for thanks. Instead, I was hoping to give you some warning about how badly he was feeling.”