Under a starlit night, they’d talked and laughed, the sounds mingling with the clopping of his horse’s hooves. Jacob opened his eyes and scanned the crowd. Friends, distant relatives, a few strangers. The night breeze lifted the fronds of the nearest palm tree in a gentle hiss.
The unknown lay before him. Betsy sipped her coffee and studied him over the edge of her cup. Something familiar flickered in her eyes, then was gone.
6
It wasn’t her day to volunteer at the hospital, but Natalie hoped to make this a quick errand. She had baked some loaves of her apple bread, wrapped carefully with plastic wrap and tied with a simple ribbon bow. Before she left her apartment, she tucked the still-warm trio of loaves into her tote bag.
She zipped along to the pediatrics wing and waved at Fran as she entered Rebecca’s room. As before, she stopped in the doorway when she saw an empty room. But this time, she saw crisp fresh linens on the bed, the furniture neatly arranged and not helping a family keep vigil.
“They released her last night.” Fran stood by Natalie’s shoulder in the doorway.
“Oh.” She stepped into the room anyway, then strode to the window. “I . . . I brought them some apple bread.” As if that made any sense to Fran.
“I know, hon, you got attached.” Fran’s soft voice brimmed with understanding. “This family more than others.”
“Yes, I did.” She didn’t care to explain the reasoning, or the hope she held inside her tote bag, hope that the Millers would help her find Katie Yoder’s family. Her family.
The phone buzzed at the desk, and Fran left the doorway. Natalie sighed as she entered the room. She sank onto the chair nearest the bed. Well, she thought it was a good idea to ask the Millers about her family. A dark object on the floor, under the corner of the bed, caught her attention.
Natalie got down on her hands and knees, reaching for the dark whatever-it-was. Her fingers touched fabric. She pulled out a doll, wearing a smaller version of the cape dress and apron worn by its owner.
She stood, hugging the doll to her chest. She snatched up her tote bag, and left the room. Fran was hanging up the phone when Natalie stopped at the desk.
“You know I can’t give you an address. HIPAA.” Fran frowned at the computer monitor in front of her. “I almost wish I could. But I’m not getting fined, losing my job, or going to jail for nobody.”
“I know. I wouldn’t ask you to, either.” Patients had rights to privacy, with good reason. Natalie understood patient privacy rights. She held up the doll. “I’m going to track them down, somehow. Sarasota’s a big city, but I know I can find their neighborhood.”
“Yes, ma’am. Yoder’s restaurant on Bahia Vista would be a good place to start.”
“Yoder’s?”
“Uh-huh. They have a restaurant, fresh market, and a gift shop. I bet someone there might know something about the Millers. Or someone who knows where they live.” Fran licked her lips. “We’ve been to Yoder’s for supper. Had the fried chicken, with greens and mashed potatoes. Yum, yum, yum.”
“Good idea. I’ll start there.” She smiled at the nurse. “Thanks.”
“Bring your appetite when you go and save room for pie,” Fran called out as Natalie left the floor.
Natalie waved, fighting off the sensation of wobbly knees trying to take over. Within minutes, she plugged Yoder’s and Bahia Vista into her phone’s GPS and was heading across the city.
Bahia Vista was a long east-west four-lane street bisecting part of Sarasota. After a series of stoplights, Natalie saw a sign for Big Olaf’s ice cream parlor. In front of the neat white building sat a few women in clothing of the Plain people as well as bearded men wearing dark trousers with suspenders. She’d found Pinecraft.
On the other side of the stoplight stood signs for Yoder’s Restaurant, so she pulled into the nearest vacant parking spot. “You have arrived,” observed her phone. Yes, she’d arrived, all right.
Natalie opened her tote bag and looked at the doll inside. “Well, let’s see if we can find your little momma.”
She saw a window for placing orders to go, but her stomach growled. Maybe she should go ahead, sit down, and have lunch inside. If she was here long enough, maybe the Millers themselves would come walking in.
A stream of women in cape dresses with others in regular street clothes made a short line outside the restaurant. Natalie tried not to stare at the contrasts. She exited her car, clicked the lock, and watched as a Plain family crossed busy Bahia Vista Street on bicycles. The mother drove a three-wheeled tricycle, towing a small wagon large enough to hold the toddler that rode inside. They could have been on a movie set. But no, this was real.
A sweet Mennonite woman stood at the hostess desk as Natalie followed the line. “Just one?”
“Just one.” Natalie shifted her bag on her shoulder. Silly. What had she expected, to find the Millers coincidentally inside and have a joyful reunion as she returned the doll to Rebecca, then asked about her mother’s family? But she had to start somewhere, and might as well begin her search on a full stomach.
The waitress, an older woman in a dark polo shirt and khaki trousers, brought her a glass of ice water. “Now, are you ready to order?”
“I’m having a hard time deciding. What’s your favorite?”
“The meatloaf, with seasoned green beans and potato casserole. You’ll like the cornbread muffins, too.”
“Okay, I’ll have that.”
As her waitress scribbled on her order pad, Natalie plucked up her courage. “Do you—do you happen to know a family named Miller, visiting from Ohio?”
“I know several Millers. It’s a popular name around here. My maiden name is Miller, in fact.”
“Oh. Well, I’m looking for the family of Rebecca Miller. She’s about seven years old and was just released from the hospital with a broken leg. Her father’s name is Jacob, and her aunt’s name is Katie.”
The woman nodded. “Ah, I think I heard about that one. Little girl was struck by a car, at the traffic light right out here. Just before Christmas.” She shook her head. “I don’t know the family, though.”
“Oh, I see.”
“But, tell you what. I can ask back in the kitchen. Etta Yoder knows everyone in Pinecraft.”
“Is she of Yoder’s restaurant?”
“Oh, yes, she is. The whole family runs the business.”
“Well, I’ll ask her, then. Thank you, thank you very much.”
Her waitress left and scurried toward the kitchen, and Natalie allowed herself to study the kaleidoscope of different wardrobes worn by her fellow diners. She noticed not all kapps were alike, and not all cape dresses were, either. The worlds of the Englisch and Amish blended here in the restaurant as locals and tourists alike filled the tables.
A white-haired woman wearing a slate blue cape dress and sheer white kapp stopped at her table. “Excuse me, are you the one asking about the Millers?”
“Yes, that’s me. Are you Etta?”
The older woman nodded. “I am. You’re looking for the Millers who live on Birky Street. I’ve known Rachel Miller for over forty years, and it about broke my heart to hear of her great-granddaughter getting injured.”
“I’m Natalie Bennett. I met them while Rebecca was in the hospital. Rebecca left her doll, and I wanted to return it to her.”
“Ah, I see. Well, I’m sure they’ll be glad to see you.”
“I hope so.”
Etta nodded. “Enjoy your meal.”
“Oh, I plan on it.” In her hurry to get out the door this morning, she’d skipped breakfast. “Thanks for your help.”
If it wasn’t for her being so hungry, she’d have asked them to box her meal and she’d take it to go. She should’ve called Grace to join her for lunch. The older woman would have had a ball and probably would insist on going through every inch of the gift shop next door. But then, this quest was something she wanted to make on her own.
Natalie savored the restaurant’s peacefu
l lunchtime bustle, then forced herself to take her time eating. Soon enough, she’d find the Millers, thanks to Etta. Her waitress was right; the meatloaf had perfect seasoning and practically melted in her mouth. The green beans convinced her beans weren’t such a bad side dish after all, and she could eat the cheesy casserole all day long.
“Room for pie? Coconut cream is our special today,” her waitress asked as she picked up her plate and flatware.
“No, I’m stuffed. Completely. But I’ll be back for sure some other time.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it. Here’s your check. They can help you out at the register.”
Natalie headed for the register, lugging her tote bag. This place was a treasure; not quite touristy, it wouldn’t fall for that.
She noted a brilliantly colored magazine next to a shelf of cookbooks and other books about the Amish for sale. Cooking and Such. She grabbed a copy. One of these days, she’d promised herself to brush up on her cooking skills. If it turned out half as delicious as the layer cake looked on the cover, she’d be doing well.
Birky Street. As she handed her check to the cashier, she asked, “Can you tell me where Birky Street is?”
“Sure, just cross at the light out here at Bahia Vista and Kaufman, go straight across and it’s the first street on your right,” the Englisch girl running the register replied.
“Thanks.” Natalie held up the magazine. “I’ll take this, too.”
Etta entered the area behind the registers. “There you are. The Millers’ home is the white house with blue trim. They usually have a small table out front by the driveway with grapefruit for sale.”
Within five minutes, Natalie was back in her car, maneuvering her way to Birky Street. “White house with blue trim, table with grapefruit.”
No sidewalks here, so she made sure she gave pedestrians and bicyclists enough room as her car crept along the street. She could see why bicycling or walking would be an easier way to get around the neighborhood. Birky Street.
She took a right and kept driving. There it was, white house with blue trim. A trio of palm trees separated it from the house beside it. The house had a driveway, but no cars, just an assortment of bicycles tucked underneath a carport.
As she left her car, she felt as if a flock of seagulls had started batting their wings inside her stomach. What was wrong with her? Put her on a circus platform in a coliseum or beneath a big top full of thousands, and the thought exhilarated her. Here she was just returning a doll to a little girl and asking a favor of near strangers, and she wanted to dash back to her car and the security of home.
The older woman, the grandmother Mrs. Miller, answered the door. “Ach, you’re the young lady from the hospital.”
“Yes, I found something that belongs to Rebecca.” Natalie slid the doll from the tote bag.
Mrs. Miller pulled the door open further. “Well, come in, come in. Rebecca has been missing her doll.”
Natalie entered the home. The aroma of pie crust and fruit filled the room. A hospital bed also took up part of the room as well.
“Miss Natalie, it’s really you. I thought I would never see you again. Ever.” Rebecca clapped her hands. “How did you find me?”
“I had lunch at Yoder’s, and Mrs. Etta Yoder told me where you lived. Here.” Natalie waved the doll in the air. “I found someone in your old room. I think she missed you.”
“Molly!” Rebecca reached for the doll. “I thought she was gone forever.”
“Thank you for doing this for Natalie,” said Mrs. Miller. “Would you like some lemonade? Fresh squeezed.”
“Yes, it sounds delicious. Thanks.” She watched the Amish matron retreat from the living room. The house seemed curiously empty. Rebecca’s hospital room always seemed to have a throng of family and visitors.
“I can’t wait till I can go to the park again.” Rebecca sighed. “Maybe tomorrow. That’s where Zeke is with Daadi. Playing bocce. Zeke’s too young to play with the old men.”
“Ah, I see. Do you have a wheelchair you can ride in?”
“It’s supposed to get here today. My daed helps carry me in the house.”
Natalie wanted to ask about Jacob, but didn’t.
Mrs. Miller reentered the living room. She held a glass of lemonade. “Here, please, sit down for a few minutes.”
“Thank you.” Natalie accepted the glass and sat down on the nearest cushioned chair. A fan circulated air in the room. “You have electricity here.”
“Yes, we do. We can have things like electricity here in Pinecraft, if my husband and I were living in Ohio, we wouldn’t have. Well, in Ohio we power our lamps and stove with gas.”
Natalie nodded, setting her glass on a nearby coaster. She reached for her tote bag and for the apple breads. “Here. I made these for you, Mrs. Miller. I hope you enjoy them.” She pulled the loaves from the bag.
“Why, thank you. Please, call me Rachel. If anything, we should have done something for you, to thank you for helping Rebecca smile while she was in the hospital. But my grandson has started a new job here, so he probably didn’t think of it.”
“Well, I brought the bread mostly because I have a favor to ask.”
“Oh?” The older woman’s eyebrows raised. “What is that?”
Natalie inhaled a deep breath before continuing. “I recently learned that my mother used to be Amish. She never told me. All the time, growing up, I thought my grandparents on my mother’s side were dead and she had no other family. I’d ask my mother for more help, but she passed away last summer of cancer.” The words caught in her throat.
“I am sorry she lied to you.”
Lied was a strong word, but yes, hiding your family from your only child, that was a lie. Anger threatened to bubble up inside, but Natalie quelled the heat. “Thanks. I don’t know why she felt she had to. Anyway, my father sent me some of her things, some of her Amish things, including a family genealogy of sorts taken from a Bible, I believe. I was hoping you might be able to help me look for her family.”
Rachel nodded slowly. “I see. What was her name?”
“Katie Yoder. I think her family was from Ohio, but that’s all I know.”
Rachel frowned. “Ach, that’s not much to go on. Katie Yoder is about as common as the Englisch Jane Smith. Do you have the genealogy page with you?”
Natalie picked up her bag, rummaged through the contents. She’d left it on the counter at home, probably. “I’m afraid I don’t.” But then, she’d been afraid of being turned down.
“What else did your mother leave for you? You said she had more things.”
“A dress, and her kapp. And an unfinished quilt top.”
Rachel’s eyes lit up. “Now, I would like to see the quilt top. Do you know its pattern?”
“I don’t. I’m not much of a seamstress.” An understatement, except she had enough skill to mend small tears and sew on buttons. “I’m honestly not sure what I should do with it.”
“Do? You could finish it.”
“Finish it.” She hadn’t thought about that. She wouldn’t know where to start.
“Of course. It’s likely the quilt was supposed to be a gift for someone. Or, for her own bed after her wedding.”
Natalie nodded.
“My daed started a new job today,” said Rebecca. “It’s not making cabinets but fixing things. He says it’s good honest work.”
“Yah, it is,” Rachel replied. “Ach, the house will be so quiet when you leave for Ohio.”
That answered her question about where Jacob was. “How long do you think Jacob and the children will be here?” Natalie allowed herself to ask.
“That I don’t know.” Rachel rose from her chair and moved to Rebecca’s bedside. “Her onkel, aenti, and cousins left on the Thursday bus.”
A knock sounded at the front door.
“Oh.” Rachel glanced at the door. “I’m not expecting company. But you never know around here. Someone may be coming by to welcome Rebecca home.”
Instead, it was an efficient-looking woman in a polo shirt and khakis. “I’m from Palm Grove Medical Supply. A wheelchair for Miller?”
“We are the Millers,” said Rachel. “Do we pay you?”
“No, no. We bill,” said the woman. Rachel signed a paper on the clipboard.
Natalie rose. She should go. She’d enjoyed the lemonade and the conversation, but clearly it wasn’t a good time.
“Wait here, Miss Natalie. We’re not through talking yet.” Rachel’s tone made Natalie want to behave, to visit and chat.
But she waited while the medical assistant showed them the features of the wheelchair, how to lock the wheels, and only after Rachel showed she could negotiate the chair through the living room did the assistant agree to sign off and leave.
“Now, to bed with you for now, unless you’d like to sit on the couch,” Rachel said as she helped Rebecca out of the chair.
“Couch, like the grownups.” Rebecca hobbled toward the couch. “I wish I could use crutches. I don’t want people to have to push me to go places.”
“Not until your father gets home.” With Natalie’s help, Rachel made sure Rebecca was seated with her broken leg, now in a long cast, propped up on an ottoman with a pillow. Once Rebecca was settled, Rachel turned to face Natalie. “About your mamm, and the quilt top. I think I can help you with both. Why don’t you stay for supper? I know the kinner would like that. We can take our time and talk.”
The front door clicked open and Zeke bounded inside. “Becca, I saw an alligator. A little one, but it was real.” He was followed by the elder Mr. Miller, who stopped stock-still in the doorway for a few seconds when his eyes met Natalie’s.
He glanced at Rachel and said something in Pennsylvania Dutch. She stood and followed her husband into the kitchen, where whispered voices rose and fell. Natalie knew the word Englisch, and understood Katie and Yoder easily enough.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Rebecca said. “I’m glad you brought Molly, too.”
“When I saw your doll on the floor, I knew you probably missed her, so I had to look for you. It was easy as going to Yoder’s Restaurant.”
A Season of Change Page 6