by Amy Clipston
“My car suits my needs,” Meghan said, folding her hands on the table and meeting Cevilla’s gaze head-on. “As I’m sure your humble home suits yours.”
Cevilla continued to look at her with an inscrutable expression. He wondered if Meghan had insulted her. That wasn’t the impression he’d wanted to make with his visit. Not even close.
Then Cevilla laughed, her eyes sparkling. “I like her, Richard,” she said, seemingly relaxed for the first time since he and Meghan arrived. “I like her a lot.”
Meghan was confused. Then again, this was her normal state of mind when it came to her grandfather lately. He’d fallen two weeks ago and nearly broken his hip. The deep bone bruise he sustained and the bump on his head had kept him in the hospital overnight—and he’d kept her and her mother on their toes after he was released. He was stubborn. Ridiculously so. But she loved him, and she would do anything to keep him safe.
Including making a foolish trip from California to Ohio.
The old woman turned back to the stove the same time the teakettle whistled. Meghan was annoyed Cevilla had caught on that she was only making polite small talk about her house. Nothing about the place was special or stylish, which was what she’d expected, but now that she saw how modest this woman’s tiny cottage was, she was surprised by its austereness. A trend for “tiny living” had developed the past couple of years, but even those small houses, which could be as confined as four hundred square feet, had been decorated with style. Cevilla’s living quarters were . . . dull.
Yet the house was homey too. Bright sunshine filtered through the kitchen window, which was open slightly, bringing in fresh air. The kitchen was set up efficiently for Cevilla’s needs. In the modern estate Meghan shared with her mother and grandfather, the kitchen was almost the size of this house. It was decorated beautifully, yet rarely used by the family because they had a cook and a maid. That was why it hadn’t dawned on her to offer to help Cevilla, like her grandfather had. She’d never had to help the help. But it would have been polite to offer Cevilla assistance.
“I have black and peppermint teas,” Cevilla said, facing them again. Her gaze shot to Meghan, and she smiled. “Which will it be?”
“Peppermint for me,” Grandfather said.
“I’ll have black,” Meghan said.
“No surprise there.” Cevilla said that in a loud mumble.
Meghan smiled, something she hadn’t done in a long time. She knew she was meant to hear the woman’s words, and she could appreciate a good dose of sarcasm. She was starting to like Cevilla too.
The boys ran back into the kitchen. The shortest one went straight to the cookies and grabbed one. The tallest pulled him back and said something in a language Meghan had never heard before. The boy looked up at him with a slight scowl, but he stood back.
“It’s all right, Judah.” Cevilla pointed at the table. “Go on and get your cookies and lemonade. You can eat outside. But only two cookies apiece, since we have company.”
The blond-haired boy with striking blue eyes nodded, and then he left the kitchen with his cookies and a glass of lemonade. The other boys followed suit, and they all went outside through the back door.
“Brothers?” Grandfather asked.
Cevilla shook her head and started toward them with one teacup. “They’re related through marriage, though. The oldest and tallest is Judah Yoder, the bishop’s son. His sister is married to Malachi’s older cousin Adam. He’s the blond. He’s also the nephew of the other boy, Perry, who happens to be only a year older.”
“Wow,” Grandfather said. He started to get up to take the tea from Cevilla, but he almost lost his balance.
“I’ll get it.” Meghan popped up from her chair and took the cup from Cevilla. “You stay put.” Grandfather complied with a grumble, but Meghan didn’t care if he didn’t want her help. The last thing they needed was for him to fall again. She set the tea in front of him and then turned to Cevilla. “I’ll get the other two, Mrs. Schlabach.”
“It’s Ms., and you can dispense with the formality nonsense. Call me Cevilla.”
“All right, Cevilla. Please, let me get your tea.”
“I really do like her.” Cevilla sat down in the chair across from Grandfather.
Meghan almost smiled, but the urge faded quickly. Cevilla was in the minority, especially lately.
Cevilla turned to Grandfather. “If you haven’t guessed, I’m surprised to see you here. What brings you to Birch Creek?”
Meghan set the last two teacups on the table as Grandfather replied, “Like I said, I came to see you.”
“All the way from California?”
Grandfather raised a bushy gray brow. “How did you know I live in California?”
“I keep up with people back home. Although less than before.” A somber look crossed her face. “I have fewer friends to write letters to now.”
He nodded, his downcast expression mimicking Cevilla’s. “That’s true. Some days I feel like I’m the only one left.”
“Me too.”
Meghan sat down, making sure she didn’t make a sound. She wondered if they even realized she was still there. For the first time it dawned on her that her grandfather might be lonely. Yes, he attended church, and he also met with a few men from the senior center to play bridge every other week. But most of the time he was at home . . . and mostly in an empty house, other than the cook and the maid.
Maybe that’s why he’d been so insistent on coming here. Or . . . or maybe he’d received news from the doctor he hadn’t told them. Maybe something was seriously wrong with him, something possibly fatal—
“Grandfather!” she blurted, her heart squeezing in her chest. “Are you dying?”
CHAPTER 2
Richard nearly dropped his teacup at Meghan’s outburst. He set it on the table and turned to her—slowly, since his neck was still a bit stiff after the long plane ride. “Meghan, what’s gotten into you?”
“You wanted to come here so badly. And you were in the hospital. And—” She glanced at Cevilla before turning to him again. “And . . .”
“And he’s old as dirt, right?”
Richard and Meghan both looked at Cevilla.
“No need to beat around the bush, young lady. Your grandfather and I know exactly how old we are—although a woman doesn’t reveal her true age.” She smirked, and then she looked at Richard. “Well? Are you dying?”
“No!” His gaze darted from Cevilla to Meghan. “I’m not dying. I had a little fall, that’s all.”
“It wasn’t that little,” Meghan said.
“And the reason I came here is . . .” His pulse sped as he met Cevilla’s gaze. “I wanted to see an old friend.”
His granddaughter slumped in the chair. “Thank God that’s all it is.”
“I’m not dying, I’m not crippled, and I’m not crazy.” They shouldn’t be having this conversation in front of Cevilla, but he was tired of Meghan’s hovering. “Yes, I’m slower than I used to be. Yes, I have balance problems. And yes, I shouldn’t eat carbs and sugar, but the bottom line is I’m still me. And I’m going to live my life the way I want to, so will you leave me alone for five minutes already?”
Meghan flinched. Then she rose from the table. “I see.”
Uh-oh. He recognized that look. Pride masking the hurt. She’d been hurt a lot this past month, and now he’d added to her pain. “Meghan—”
“I’m going to get some fresh air.” She walked out of the kitchen toward the front door.
Richard sighed. “I handled that badly.”
“No one’s perfect.” Cevilla picked up her tea, took a small sip, and then set down the cup. “I do understand where you’re coming from.”
“I wish she did.” He pushed his cup a few inches with his finger. “Still, I shouldn’t have lashed out at her. Meghan’s had a rough time of it lately. I didn’t need to pile on more.”
Cevilla didn’t say anything for a long moment. Birds twittered outside, and it s
truck him how peaceful it was here. He’d noticed that on the drive from the Akron airport. Lush green fields, beautiful oak and maple trees lining the highways and roads, pastures, farmland, and as they came closer to Amish country, buggies and horses. “I can see why you were drawn to this place,” he said.
“You can? You’ve been here only a short while.”
“I’ve lived in LA for fifty years. The contrast is jarring. But in a good way.”
She nodded. “I’m curious. How did you find me?”
“You can find anyone nowadays because of the internet.”
“That’s a computer, right?”
“Sort of. Have you used a computer before?”
“No, but they have a few at the library. I don’t have any need for that kind of technology.” She frowned, looking a bit disturbed. “I’m on the internet?”
“There’s a website similar to the phone book.” He went on to explain how she was listed as a related person to Noah Schlabach. With a little more digging, he was able to find her address. “I should have told you I was coming.”
“Why didn’t you?”
He almost admitted that he was afraid she would tell him no. “Bump on the noggin, remember?” He tapped his head. “Guess it affected me after all.”
“Humph. I find that hard to believe.”
Since she saw through his fib, he changed the topic. “I didn’t want to say this in front of Meghan, but seeing you isn’t the only reason I came here.” That was the truth.
“Oh?” Her light gray eyebrows lifted.
He was struck by how much she still resembled her younger self. She was a little plumper, a lot grayer, and her formerly smooth skin had as many wrinkles as his did. But the youthful Cevilla was still there—the sparkle in her eyes, the quickness of her wit, the way she always got to the point, sometimes in an annoying way. “I wanted to get Meghan out of LA. She needs some breathing room.”
Cevilla nodded. “It’s clear she loves you very much.”
“Yes. And I love her. I knew I wouldn’t be able to convince her to take a vacation, so I insisted on coming to see you.” He smiled as he gazed at her face. Still pretty after all these years.
“Killing two birds with one stone?”
“I never liked that phrase.” He pushed up his glasses.
“Me neither.” She drew in a breath. “You’re both welcome to stay here. I have only one spare bedroom, but I don’t mind sleeping on the couch.”
“I appreciate the offer, but Meghan’s already reserved hotel rooms for us. I think the hotel is in Barton.”
“Must be, since it’s the closest town. It also has the only hotel nearby.” She paused. “We could use a bed-and-breakfast around here, considering how much Birch Creek has expanded the past few years. We have a few in the area, but they’re not real close. They mostly cater to the Holmes County visitors.”
“You never thought about starting one?”
She shook her head. “That never interested me. The environment here wasn’t conducive to hospitality at the time.”
He wondered why, but when she didn’t say anything else, he didn’t pry. “Sorry. Sometimes I can’t shut off my business mind.”
“Is that how you made your millions?” She gave him a sly grin. “I know about that too. You’ve done well for yourself.”
“I suppose.” He looked her straight in the eye. “Money isn’t everything.”
“No, it’s not. Your faith is.” She leveled her gaze. “Tell me, Richard Johnson. What do you put your faith in?”
Normally Cevilla didn’t have a problem getting straight to the point or asking questions no one else did. And usually she didn’t feel awkward or guilty about that. She didn’t believe in beating around the bush when a direct question or comment sufficed. Yet sometimes she wished she’d been a bit more discreet. This was one of those times.
But the question was out there, and she wasn’t about to pull it back. She was genuinely curious. She had known about Richard’s business savvy and success. Years ago, the high school in Arnold City was renamed after him when he donated the funds for an additional wing and established a scholarship program. It was in all the newspapers, and her friend Clara, who passed away over a decade ago, had sent her a clipping. She wasn’t surprised. Richard had always been kind and generous.
“If you’re asking if I go to church, I do.”
“I wasn’t asking that,” she said.
“My faith is important to me.” He didn’t look away. “The most important thing.”
She relaxed a bit, glad to hear it. Not that she would have treated him differently. But it was good to know he had the peace of God. She decided to change the subject. “How long are you staying in Birch Creek?”
“At least a week.”
“And what are your plans?”
He adjusted his glasses again. “I’m not sure.”
“That’s surprising. I figured you’d have your itinerary scheduled to the last detail. You were always so organized.”
“I remember being made fun of for that in school.”
“Look who’s laughing now.”
He grew serious. “I don’t see it that way. I didn’t set out to make a lot of money. That was never my goal. I only wanted to support my wife and daughter and make sure they were comfortable. Then the money started rolling in, and I realized what I could do with it. I made sure they were beyond comfortable.”
“And how did that turn out?”
“Not as well as I thought,” he mumbled.
Cevilla was a little surprised by his response. Not that she wouldn’t expect him to take good care of his family, but providing so well for them, at least materially, didn’t always equate to happiness. She’d never had a lot of money herself, but she’d seen firsthand what greed could do to a man when the former bishop of Birch Creek hoarded money in the community fund, keeping it from members who needed financial help.
Malachi came inside. “We finished the cookies and lemonade,” he said, setting down three empty glasses. “Anything else you need us to do?”
She shook her head. She’d kept them here long enough. “You can go home now, Malachi. Thank you for your hard work.”
He nodded, looking pleased by the compliment. “Anytime.”
“Did you see Meghan outside?” Richard asked.
The boy frowned. “Who’s Meghan?”
“The woman who was with me. She’s my granddaughter.”
Malachi shook his head. “We were in the backyard, and I didn’t see her there. Maybe Judah or Perry did. I’ll go ask.”
“She might have gone for a walk,” Cevilla said after Malachi left.
Richard nodded. “She does that at home. Power walking, though. She always has her watch on her wrist, checking her steps, pulse, and distance.” He shook his head. “Amazing what technology can do nowadays. I remember when having a phone in the house meant you were rich. Now everyone’s wearing a phone on their wrists.”
“You won’t see me with one of those. Too fancy.” Not to mention very much against the Ordnung. She’d never been drawn to technology anyway. The Amish way of life had always suited her.
Malachi poked his head inside the kitchen. “They haven’t seen her either, Cevilla.”
“Thank you for checking,” Richard said.
Malachi nodded, and the back door banged shut behind him.
“I’m sure she’s all right,” Cevilla said. “She can’t get into too much trouble around here.”
Richard sighed. “You don’t know my granddaughter.”
Meghan stopped at the end of the road and looked around. She had no idea where she was. When she left Cevilla’s, she planned on only a short walk. The cozy kitchen had suddenly become stifling after her grandfather’s admonishment. She’d also been embarrassed, being talked to like she was still a child, especially in front of a stranger. Didn’t he understand how much she loved him? That she wanted him to be around for a long time?
Then the tears had
flowed, and she walked blindly, wiping them as she continued to worry about her grandfather. He’d always been there for her after her father divorced her mother, when she was only eight. Not only was he her grandfather but he was her father too. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing him. His fall had scared her, as had his rapid physical decline over the past year.
Having finally come to her senses, she looked at her surroundings. Nothing seemed familiar. She stood on the side of the road and looked back. Had she taken a turn at some point? She couldn’t remember. She’d also left her phone at Cevilla’s, and without a way to tell the time, she didn’t even know how long she’d been gone.
Meghan took in a deep breath. No need to panic. She couldn’t have walked that far. And she’d lost her bearings before. New York, Chicago, London—she hadn’t known her way around those cities and she’d managed. With my GPS. She didn’t have that now. She’d also never been lost in such a rural area. Everything looked the same—grass, trees, a few cows in the nearby pasture. She saw a couple of houses up the road, but even they looked similar to most of the other white homes she’d seen.
She realized she’d have to stop at one of them and ask directions. That was the last thing she wanted to do, but she had no other option.
Reluctantly, she headed toward the houses. She could see the properties were more like compounds, with several different sized buildings on each lot. Some she could identify, like the barns. But others looked like small versions of the main houses. They were set off toward the back or the side, as if multiple families were living on the same lot. She’d never seen that before.
She walked past a large pasture with cows and horses. A huge white barn sat next to it, and a large two-story house stood a little way from the barn. An even larger, matching house was next door. She looked from one to the other, wondering which one she should try.
Did they even have doorbells?