by Naomi King
Rosemary glanced at the clock, sighing inwardly. Titus’s plans would get his daughter’s day off to a worrisome start, but this wasn’t the time to discuss Beth Ann’s emotions…the friends she would miss, and the way leaving this house would mean leaving behind reminders of her mother, as well. “Won’t be long before the Schlabachs and the Millers are waiting out by the mailbox,” she said gently. “Have a gut day at school.”
Beth Ann rose from the table, plucked her lunch bucket from the countertop, and grabbed her shawl from a peg by the door. “Bye, Dat,” she murmured. “See you when I get home, Rosemary.”
“Jah, Katie and I’ll be waiting for you.” Beth Ann and the other children along this road walked about a mile to the one-room schoolhouse situated on a corner of Bishop Chupp’s property, so they got an early start each weekday morning.
Rosemary glanced at Titus’s plate. “More French toast? Or some eggs, maybe?” She broke more of the fried bread into pieces for Katie.
Katie grabbed the largest chunk and dunked it in the puddle of strawberry preserves Rosemary had spooned onto her plate.
“A couple of eggs would be gut,” Titus replied, and then added, “Make it three. My appetite seems to be coming out of hibernation, maybe from thinking about all the effort it’ll take to shift us from this farm to a different one.”
Rosemary rose to fix the rest of his breakfast. “Well, you dropped enough weight while Alma was sick that your pants got baggy. So maybe this means you’re coming around now, back to normal.”
“Normal?” Titus let out a short laugh. “Whatever normal is, I feel like I’ve gone way beyond it. I’m excited, Rosemary—even though I’m in for a lot of work if I’m to make all these plans come to pass.”
She cracked three eggs against the edge of the counter, dropping them one by one into the skillet in which she’d fried the bacon. Even before Alma and Joe had died, her father-in-law had never sounded so exuberant about anything. “So…what if Perry Bontrager doesn’t want to sell?”
“Why wouldn’t he?” Titus replied with a shrug. “With his dat gone, he’s in the same situation I am—most of his kin scattered someplace else. His wife’s family lives over around Clearwater, so what’s to keep him in Cedar Creek? Especially if I make him a gut offer.”
Rosemary’s heart constricted. How was it that, less than a week after Zanna’s wedding, so many major changes had taken place? Was it God’s doing when circumstances seemed to mesh so quickly? As she stood by the stove, watching the eggs crackle beneath a shaking of salt and pepper, she fought a new surge of anxiety.
What’s to happen with your land? You can’t leave Joe’s investment behind or let Titus blend it in with his farm when he sells it. Or would you stay here in Queen City, near Mamm and Malinda? He can’t make you move to Cedar Creek…
Rosemary flipped the three eggs, not caring that some grease splattered the stovetop. Realizing that she had options—that she did not have to go along with every move Titus made—gave her a different perspective on this surprising development. After all, she had blueprints for a new home…plans that she and Joe had made before tragedy turned the Yutzy family upside down. It had been her choice to keep house here for Titus, so it could also be her decision to stay in Queen City.
“I’m thinking you should go to the funeral with me, Rosemary. Get yourself out amongst people in Cedar Creek.”
That was not what she had in mind. Titus’s statement hung in the kitchen as she lifted the fried eggs from the skillet onto his plate. Rosemary considered defying him, and yet…she might be able to use Thursday’s trip to her advantage, as far as her own future was concerned. Maybe, since Titus had been making decisions that took her by surprise, she should use the same strategy on him. After all, hadn’t he reminded her on the evening before Zanna’s wedding that it was Joe who had died, not her?
Rosemary carried the rest of his breakfast to the table, her thoughts simmering. “Let me know what time you’ll be leaving. I’ll be ready.”
“This is a surprise,” Titus said as he stepped up into the carriage early on Thursday morning. “The way you’ve been reacting to Matt Lambright’s calls, I figured you’d back out of going to the funeral today.”
Rather than answer, Rosemary checked the pie carriers at her feet to be sure they would ride upright. Not often did Joe’s dat admit he hadn’t predicted what she would do. It would be difficult to endure the service for Preacher Paul, but it was time she started rising to challenges again.
“And you could’ve pushed me over with a feather when you took Katie to stay over at your mamm’s yesterday,” Titus added. As the horse trotted onto the wet blacktop, he looked sideways at her from beneath the brim of his black hat. “I thought you’d be using your little girl as a distraction, for when Matt got too friendly.”
Oh, but she wanted to reply to that remark! Instead, Rosemary considered her answer. “You probably think one of those six apple pies I baked is for him, too, don’t you? But they’re a favor to Aunt Lois. When I called Tuesday, she said the Bontragers are expecting a lot of kin from Indiana and Ohio. Lots of mouths to feed.”
Truth be told, Rosemary wasn’t sure she was ready to sit though a funeral. Joe’s service had been the last one she’d attended. But a trip to Cedar Creek seemed a better way to spend a dreary day than stewing over Titus’s dealings with Perry Bontrager. If she was at the funeral, she could watch facial expressions while Titus and Perry—and probably Matt—discussed the possibilities of buying that land. It seemed inconsiderate to rush into such talk with a fellow who had just lost his father, but it wasn’t her place to tell Titus that, was it?
As the miles rolled by and the rain pattered against the carriage roof, Rosemary enjoyed a newfound sense of freedom, having a day away from the housework. Abby would be at the funeral, of course, and the prospect of getting better acquainted with Barbara and Treva Lambright appealed to her because—well, she had kept herself so focused on her daily tasks at Titus’s that she hadn’t gone to any quilting frolics or other activities over the winter. She craved the company of other women right now. And she would enjoy talking to them a lot more without Beth Ann’s long face or Katie’s squirming to contend with.
“If we move to Cedar Creek, Lois would welcome your help at her pie shop,” Titus remarked. “She’ll reach a point someday where running Mother Yutzy’s Oven is too much of a strain.”
“Jah, she’s told me that several times,” Rosemary replied in a faraway voice. “But I might not move to Cedar Creek. Joe and I had blueprints drawn up for a house, and if I gave the carpenters my go-ahead, I could be living in it by fall. I’d be right next door to Mamm that way.”
Titus’s eyebrows shot up. “Now, why would you want to go building a house? That’s just silliness, thinking you should go through with the plans you and Joe made—locking yourself away in the past and living by yourself.”
Ah, but what if Matt Lambright moved to Queen City to be with me? What would that do to your plans?
Rosemary looked away so her father-in-law wouldn’t see her furtive grin. She had no intention of letting Matt share her house, of course, but wasn’t it fun to watch Titus squirm? He apparently assumed that she had signed on with him until she found another husband. And maybe, no matter what he said out loud, he was hoping she wouldn’t remarry. That way, his laundry would get done and his meals would appear on the table—and she could navigate Beth Ann through her teenage years and her rumspringa, so Titus wouldn’t have to handle those matters as a single father.
And while Rosemary didn’t regret stepping in to help Titus, Mamm’s assessment might be correct. She had made life a lot more convenient for Joe’s dat. If she slowed down some, and even got back into circulation, what might life be like? Even as gray clouds shrouded the sky, and though she still wore the black kapp and dress of a widow, Rosemary felt happier than she’d been in a long while. Just for today, it would be good to keep Titus guessing.
As they approached Cedar Cr
eek, carriages were streaming in from both directions on the county blacktop, toward the mercantile and the carriage shop, where fellows in dark slickers were directing them where to park. From their place in the stalled line of folks who had come to pay their final respects to Paul Bontrager, Rosemary could see through the windows of Treva’s Greenhouse, where long tables were again set up. Although this occasion wouldn’t be nearly as cheerful as Zanna’s wedding, it provided a way for far-flung members of Paul’s family to gather, while folks from around town would see to the meal after the service and the livestock chores at the Bontrager place so Salome and Paul wouldn’t have to worry about them.
Such thoughts brought to mind the day they had buried Joe. Rosemary recalled the November wind biting through her coat…the thud of the soil being shoveled onto his plain pine coffin. She sat straighter, determined not to cry. She yearned to rise above her own loss—to give help today rather than needing to receive it. When she caught sight of a slender young woman beneath an umbrella coming down Lambright Lane, she slid open her door.
“Abby!” she called out. “Where should I put these pies?”
It was good to see her new friend’s face light up, and as Abby hurried toward them, Rosemary sensed her day had taken a turn for the better. “Since we’ve come to a stop in the line,” she said to Titus, “I’ll save us from carrying these pies all the way from wherever you have to park.”
“Gut to see you, Rosemary! Gut morning to you, too, Titus,” Abby said as she reached the side of their buggy. She grasped the first pie carrier—a tall covered basket designed to hold two stacked pies—as Rosemary handed it out to her. “Mighty nice of you to bake for us today, Rosemary. We’ve got a large crowd already, even though it’s an hour before the service starts.”
Rosemary handed the second carrier to Abby and then stepped down to the pavement. “Happy to help. It’s the least I could do after your warm welcome last week. Aunt Lois was thinking you might need every pie you could round up.”
Rosemary grabbed the last carrier, took one back from Abby, and followed her along the side of the carriage-congested road. It occurred to her that she had just walked away from Titus without even thinking about it, because she had someone to visit with. She had a mission and a new friend, so she didn’t have to hunt up Aunt Lois to keep her company anymore.
And wasn’t that a blessing? Another little freedom she had allowed herself.
Rosemary noticed the glowing green of the new leaves on the trees as the sun came out from behind the clouds and how rows of red and yellow tulips brightened the front of Sam and Barbara’s white house. Had the rose of Sharon bushes been this full of blooms last week, or had she been too agitated to notice them? As she enjoyed these signposts of spring, she saw two familiar figures: James was motioning for carriages to proceed to the back of his carriage shop, while on the other side of the road Matt directed drivers coming from the other direction to park in the Lambrights’ big front yard. He caught sight of Rosemary and held her gaze.
She stopped. She waved and then followed Abby into Treva’s Greenhouse, where several women were setting the tables. No sense in letting these folks—especially Titus—witness any sort of connection between her and Matt. She hadn’t come to this funeral to flirt, after all.
As Rosemary set her carriers on the table and began removing pies, Abby handed her a clean knife. “Denki,” she murmured. “I hadn’t expected to be back in Cedar Creek anytime soon, so it’s gut to see you.”
“And we’re glad to have you here, too. So where’s Katie today?” Abby deftly drew her knife through one of the apple pies.
“I thought she’d have a better day with Mamm and my sister.” Her four quick cuts made eight evenly sized pieces. “Beth Ann’s in school, of course—and I’ll have you know she’s already made Titus’s work pants, those two dresses for Katie, and her own new dresses, as well.”
“Sounds like she’s a wonderful-gut seamstress.” When she heard the door opening behind them, Abby turned. “And I’m guessing Matt saw you and figured he’d better see what kind of pie you brought.”
“There’s no figuring about it,” Matt replied in a low voice. He came up to the table and lifted the pie Abby had just sliced. “Rosemary’s specialty is apple pie, made with brown sugar and fresh lemon zest, and this one has my name all over it.”
Rosemary’s eyes widened as Matt snatched a fork from the nearest table. Was he really going to eat a piece right out of the pan?
“Matt, let me get you a plate.” Abby hurried over to where the dessert dishes were stacked.
“No need. It’s not like anyone else gets a taste—unless Rosemary wants some.” Matt forked up the tip of one piece and held it in front of her with a wicked grin. His brown eyes sparkled with mischief, yet he was serving her the first bite as though he wouldn’t take no for an answer.
“I—you don’t really intend to eat this whole pie, do you?” Rosemary blurted out.
Matt’s dimples teased her. “I’ll save some of it for the funeral lunch and some for later today,” he replied, still holding the fork in front of her. “I’ve never sampled one of your fine pies, Rosemary, and I want to enjoy every bite of it. If you’ll share it with me, it’ll taste even better.”
Rosemary’s breath caught. When had a man ever gazed at her this way, as he held out an offering of far more than filling and crust? Something indescribable passed between them—something sweeter than pie. She opened her mouth. When Matt slipped the fork between her lips, his gaze grew more intense. Then he turned the fork’s handle toward Rosemary so she could feed him the next bite.
She could hardly swallow. This exchange came too close to the way a bride and groom shared the first bites of their wedding cake. If she went through with what Matt was silently suggesting, it seemed they would forge a profound connection even though they’d never been on a date. Even though they knew very little about each other.
But she saw no graceful way to refuse him. Rosemary closed her eyes over the bite of pie, savoring the rich sweetness of the brown sugar and butter, the texture of the sliced apples…the tang of lemon zest and the tenderness of the crust. It was like no other bite of pie she could recall—and wasn’t that a silly idea? She’d been making and eating her own pies since she was Beth Ann’s age.
Matt’s expression, however, told her he didn’t find this moment silly at all. His lips parted in anticipation. His eyes closed and his long lashes brushed his cheeks. Quickly, before she got any more caught up in how kissable he looked, she forked up a big bite and slipped it into his mouth.
His groan gratified her. As she removed the fork, Matt caught hold of her hand. He chewed slowly, holding her gaze, apparently delighted by the blend of flavors and textures. “Rosemary, that’s the best apple pie I’ve ever tasted,” he murmured matter-of-factly. “But then, I knew it would be. Denki for bringing it and for sharing it with me.”
She had no idea what to say, so she nodded. When Matt took the fork back, she once again became aware that while Abby was still cutting pies, the other women bustled about the tables as they laid out plates and silverware.
Rosemary reminded herself to breathe. It seemed that while she had felt suspended in time and space, removed from reality, the world had not come to a standstill, nor had anyone apparently noticed the little ceremony that had just taken place. Yet Rosemary felt changed. Matt had initiated an unspoken agreement between them, and she had willingly entered into it. And what did that mean?
Matt offered her another bite, but she shook her head. As he polished off that piece of pie, Rosemary felt an inexplicable happiness. She had passed his first test.
Joe would never have done that. Not in public, anyway.
Rosemary looked away, removing herself from all thoughts of her deceased husband. Joe had been a fine man, if more private about his feelings than Matt was. But he didn’t have a place here today. She had come to explore a whole new realm of possibilities without being bound to her past as a wife
and a mother. Today she was Rosemary, a young woman seeking her future, even if it was too soon to believe Matt would play an important part in it.
Abby elbowed Matt as he lifted the crimped crust edge to eat it from his fingers. “I’ll cover this and set it aside for you,” she said, pointing to a closed cabinet along the wall. “You know, of course, that if your sisters or your mamm see you eating it straight from the pan, you’ll catch a lot of teasing when they learn it’s Rosemary’s pie.”
“Not the first time they’ve teased me,” he said with a shrug. “And if a fellow can’t tolerate some talk for pie like this—or for a woman like Rosemary—well, he’s not much of a man.”
Matt laid his fork in the pie pan and handed it to Abby. “I’d better get back to parking buggies, but I’ll find you after the funeral, Rosemary—if you’ll let me sit with you at dinner,” he added as he waggled his eyebrows at her.
Again, she saw no easy way to refuse him. They’d be seated among hundreds of other people, after all. “All right. But if you need to talk with Titus about your flocks or—”
“Titus will have to wait his turn.”
As Rosemary watched him walk out the door toward the road, which was still lined with carriages, her pulse pounded. Matt seemed so confident about his feelings for her. What if she was getting too caught up in the rush of his emotions and the attention he was paying her that she wasn’t considering how she felt? She had a young child to consider, and a piece of ground, and Mamm and Malinda, and—
“I’ve never seen Matt so happy.” Abby’s brown eyes, so much like her nephew’s, glimmered as she squeezed Rosemary’s wrist. “I know he’s taken you by surprise, Rosemary, but he’s a gut man. Not a fellow to string girls along and then cast them aside. God has brought you together today, so don’t be afraid,” she added softly. “All the right reasons and details will fall into place, if we give ourselves over to His will.”