by Naomi King
Rosemary wasn’t going to tell Matt she’d made up her mind, though. How long would it take him to figure it out?
As the buggy headed down the county blacktop toward Queen City, Matt glanced over to where Katie had fallen asleep in Rosemary’s lap, and then behind him, where Beth Ann was stretched out on the backseat with her eyes closed. He scooted closer to the woman who was making his pulse pound with curiosity and hope.
“You must’ve had a gut time at the frolic,” he murmured near her ear. “Beth Ann has a nice chunk of rug to show for her day, but you…well, your face has a glow to it, like you know something now that you didn’t realize when you came this morning.”
Rosemary’s lashes fluttered and she glanced away, confirming his impression that she was keeping a secret. “Must have been the turtle brownies,” she hedged. “They were huge, but I had to have two…all that gushy caramel and nuts over that moist, chewy chocolate, you know?”
“I don’t suppose you brought me one,” Matt teased. “Even if you women left any, Dat will gobble them down before I get back.”
“Too bad for you, ain’t so?” When she widened her eyes at him, Matt’s heart turned handsprings.
“Give me a taste, Rosemary. Katie and Beth Ann won’t know.”
Her breath caught when she realized his meaning. She glanced back at Beth Ann, who was now breathing deeply, and then cradled her daughter more closely. Even in her stark black kapp and dress, Rosemary was still the prettiest young woman he’d ever seen, yet she was a conscientious mother first and foremost. And he liked that about her, a lot. Matt checked to see that no cars were coming, wrapping the reins securely in one hand even though Cecil would hold his gait steady. Then, when Rosemary’s eyes found his again, he didn’t wait to be invited twice.
Matt eased his face closer to hers, holding his breath as her lips parted. He closed his eyes…got so caught up in the sweet softness of her mouth that all thoughts of chocolate and caramel left him. Rosemary wasn’t just letting him kiss her, like some girls he’d dated; she was kissing him back.
A screech of tires and the blare of a horn made them spring apart. With the revving of its engine and a loud whoosh, a low-slung black car sped around them, honking again and again. It was all Matt could do to rein in his spooked horse, and as Cecil raced down the highway, Katie began to wail.
“What was that? What happened?” Beth Ann cried out as she sat up behind them.
Amid this chaos, however, it was Rosemary’s expression that stabbed at Matt’s heart. “Of all the nerve, to be going so fast—to get so close he nearly ran into us.” She was clutching Katie, desperate to quiet the toddler’s cries against her shoulder. She looked around the slowing carriage, wide-eyed with fear, and then focused on him. “My word, I lost track of what time it must be, and—well, it’s nearly dark. Do you have your lights on, Matt?”
How had dusk fallen and he hadn’t noticed? The answer, of course, was Rosemary…the woman with the softest, warmest lips he’d ever kissed. Matt flipped the toggle switch beneath the windshield, his pulse pounding with fear and guilt as the headlights beamed on. While that car had been traveling well above the speed limit for this stretch of blacktop, he knew better than to lose track of the road—and the light—that way. It went without saying that they all might have been killed…
He eased Cecil over to the shoulder and stopped the buggy. His mouth was so dry he could hardly speak. “I’m sorry,” he rasped.
Rosemary let out a shuddery breath. “Me, too. That was a close one.”
A strained silence hovered between them for the rest of the ride. He knew better than to hope for another kiss when they arrived at the Yutzy farm. Beth Ann hurried past him to get into the house—probably to tell Titus how they’d nearly been hit—and Rosemary hugged her daughter against her shoulder. “Denki for the ride, Matt,” she murmured as she ascended the wooden stairs to the porch. When the screen door banged behind her, it had the sound of finality.
Matt stepped back up into the buggy, still shaken. It was going to be a long ride home—and a long time before he got back into Rosemary’s good graces.
Chapter 20
Matt sat in the phone shanty, listening to the ringing…ringing…of the Yutzys’ phone. How could he apologize again and get Rosemary talking to him if no one picked up? It would be so helpful to hear her voice, to regain the confidence he’d felt in her kiss—
A loud knocking on the windowpane startled him out of his thoughts. “This isn’t your private phone, Matt,” a familiar voice reminded him. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, I’d like to make a call.”
Emma was glaring at him through the glass. While it was no surprise that she was still angry, it wore on him that both she and Rosemary were upset with him.
“I’ve watched you come in here four times in the last hour,” Emma continued in her impatient tone. “What’s the problem? Is Rosemary not taking your calls now? Could it be she listened to my advice?”
Matt came up out of the wooden chair so fast it banged against the shanty’s back wall. “That’s not fair, Emma! I apologized to you, so— What’d you tell her?”
“That’s none of your never-mind, now, is it?”
As she held his gaze, it saddened him to see the glint of vengefulness in her eyes. How had he gotten two young women crosswise enough to conspire against him? Matt sensed this conversation would go nowhere positive, so he walked away. Judging from the familiar horses and buggies hitched alongside the mercantile, it looked like a good place to hear basic male conversation.
As he stepped inside, he inhaled the heady scent of bulk grass seed and the dry tang of onions set in bins near the door. At this time in the afternoon, the large rooms of the mercantile were much dimmer than the bright sunlight outside, so he allowed his eyes to adjust as he listened to the ongoing discussion.
“Who do you suppose folks’ll be naming as their choices for a new preacher, come time for the falling of the lot on Sunday?” Rudy Ropp asked as he loaded two salt blocks into his shopping cart.
Pete Beachey, their deacon, stood an aisle away, looking at mousetraps. “Better be one of our younger fellas, like Carl Byler or maybe Leon Mast. Gets to be hard on an older man’s nerves—and his pocketbook—when he reaches the point he’s only got enough energy to support himself with his own business.”
“When Preacher Paul and I would go fishin’,” Merle Graber chimed in, “he’d tell me how he’d visit a member and get told it was none of his business if they were usin’ their kid’s cell phone or that they’d been attendin’ church with the Mennonites. Nobody wanted his preachin’ job, yet they were always tellin’ him how he should do it.” He let out a short laugh. “Sure hope I’m not picked to be the preacher. I’ve already got somebody tellin’ me how to do every little thing.”
Matt chuckled along with the rest of the men in the store. Even though Merle’s memory wasn’t as sharp as it used to be, his sense of humor—especially concerning Eunice—was still on target.
“Jah, and preachin’s a thankless job, too,” said Ezra Yutzy. “I’ve heard Abe Nissley tellin’ how, more than once, he’s been called away from his orchard to settle somebody’s dispute on a gut, sunny day, only to lose some of his crop to hail damage when he couldn’t get his apples picked in time. Kind of a shame to saddle a younger fella with that lifetime burden when they’ve got kids comin’ along.”
“But that’s part of the vow we men take when we join the church,” Matt’s father pointed out from his high stool at the checkout counter. “I’d hate to think about keeping up with the mercantile while studying Scripture and preparing to preach, though. There’s only so much a man can concentrate on at one time.”
Matt headed down the aisle where they sold bags of roasted peanuts in the shell, hoping not to draw the men’s attention as they talked about Cedar Creek’s most crucial, controversial topic. His mother and grandmother had discussed this subject with Aunt Abby nearly every day this week, so it was good
to hear the opinions of the menfolk. As he rounded the end of the snack shelves, however, Rudy caught sight of him.
“Well now, Sam, here’s your boy,” the older fellow announced. “Matt’s plenty sensible enough to run the store when you’d need to be gone on a preachin’ errand or studyin’ up on the Bible.”
Matt grabbed a bag of peanuts and hurried toward the front counter as though he had somewhere he needed to be. “Not so sure that’d be a gut idea,” he replied, feeling all the men’s gazes focused on him. “I’m lots better suited to being a shepherd than a shopkeeper. Right, Dat?”
His father looked pointedly at him as he accepted his money. “The man chosen will rely on his family to stand with him—to step in and help keep bread on the table. A preacher’s whole family lives with a new set of priorities.”
“Jah, well, I’ll deal with that when the time comes,” Matt murmured before he headed outside again. The afternoon had gotten off to a rocky start, and when he saw that Emma was no longer in the phone shanty, he hoped the sound of Rosemary’s voice might improve his mood—except his dat had followed him outside.
“I get the feeling something’s been bothering you all week, son. And maybe we don’t need to share it with all the fellows in the store.”
It was the sort of statement Matt knew better than to duck. Anytime his dat left the mercantile to talk with him, it was a sign Sam Lambright intended to conduct an entirely different type of business…and maybe it was time to turn loose of the concern that had burdened him since Saturday.
“While driving Rosemary and the girls back to Queen City last week, I, um, nearly got us all killed.” The bag of peanuts crackled as he gripped it. “A car ran up real close behind us. Then the brakes squealed and he swerved around us, honking up a storm. Scared the daylights out of us,” Matt continued in an urgent voice. “And when Rosemary pointed out that I hadn’t turned on the buggy lights, I—I apologized, but she hasn’t returned any of my calls since then.”
His father’s face tightened with concern, yet he remained calm. “We can’t know what English drivers are thinking—or if they’re just not thinking—when they come up behind our buggies too fast. And sometimes it’s sheer orneriness when they make sport of spooking our horses. I’ve forgotten my lights a time or two,” he added, stroking his dark beard. “And jah, it was usually when I was distracted by the young lady in the seat beside me.”
Matt swallowed, waiting for a lecture about the precautions, the responsibilities everyone assumed while they were driving. There was no getting around how he needed a talking-to, yet when his dat’s broad hand settled on his shoulder, Matt felt a solid strength rather than any signs of anger.
“Truth be told, a close call usually scares us into remembering the lights after that,” he went on. “But it was God’s doing—and probably that slow-moving vehicle reflector on the buggy—that kept you from being killed. And for that I’m thankful. It was a blessing, the day you were born, son, and it’s too soon to lose you.”
Matt went warm all over, basking in the love his father seldom put into words. Dat loved Phoebe and Gail and Ruthie, of course, yet he had always felt favored because he was the only son. “But I feel bad because Rosemary’s not speaking to me or letting me—”
“She was scared, too. And what with Titus buying the Bontrager place, she has a lot on her mind right now.” His father smiled wryly. “But we can never know what women are really worried about, jah? Your mamm has been upset all this week, thinking that if I’m chosen to preach she’ll have to quit her midwifing. So it’s a wise thing you’ve done, telling me about your highway incident instead of talking about it at the table, Matt. We’re both better off for that!”
Matt enjoyed the sound of his father’s low laughter as it blended with his own.
“We’ll believe the best, come Sunday, when God chooses his servant for Cedar Creek, too,” Dat went on. “Just as we’ll believe He knows what you ought to do after that, and what path Rosemary should choose, as well. It’s all a lot simpler if we let God be in charge.”
Matt felt a glow when he met his father’s gaze, as though his dat had pronounced a benediction, a blessing just for him. It was a holy moment, shining like a vibrant green leaf, when he better understood the strong, silent bond that had deepened over his lifetime…the sort of love he yearned to experience with Rosemary, and with Katie and his own children someday.
“Thanks, Dat,” he murmured.
“We both feel better for talking this out. So now it’s back to business.”
Matt watched his father walk through the mercantile door, with a prayer that he himself would conduct God’s business and his family’s business in a mature, responsible way. He opened his sack and enjoyed a couple of fresh peanuts. Off to the west, the sky had darkened with rain clouds, so after one more try at talking to Rosemary he’d get back to checking the pasture fences.
One job at a time, one day at a time. It was the best way to get things done.
Rosemary divided the big batch of bread dough into four balls and then sprinkled the countertop with more flour. It was a humid, rainy afternoon, not ideal for working with yeast, but then it was one of those days when nothing else was going well, either. School had let out for the summer today, and Beth Ann’s mood hung as low and dreary as the storm clouds.
“I—I hurried home by myself. I couldn’t stay a single minute after we were dismissed,” she said between sniffles. “Couldn’t say good-bye to Teacher Rachel or to Fannie and Mary Etta Schlabach, or—well, what if I never make such gut friends in Cedar Creek, Rosemary? What if—”
Rosemary slipped her arm around Beth Ann’s shaking shoulders. “Jah, it’ll take some time, but Ruthie and the Coblentz twins already think you’re pretty special, you know. And with the Ropp girls just around the bend, too, why, you’ll have a new buddy bunch in no time. You’ll see, Beth Ann.”
The young girl drew a loud, shuddery breath and began to cry in earnest. “It’s just so hard, Rosemary. Dat doesn’t understand that it’s more than leaving my gut friends. It’s…well, I’ll be leavin’ Mamm behind, too.”
Rosemary sighed along with her young sister-in-law, feeling the same pain on an adult level. All her life she’d lived either in the home where she’d grown up—even after she’d married Joe—or just down the road from her mother and sister. And how would she explain to Katie that they wouldn’t be seeing Mammi and Aunt Malinda every day once they moved? She was glad her daughter was napping now instead of listening in on this tearful conversation. Like Beth Ann, Rosemary would miss taking wildflowers to the little cemetery where they had laid Joe and Alma to rest.
When she saw Titus coming out the barn door, she stood taller. “Better dry your eyes now. Your dat’s got something on his mind, and he’s headed this way.”
Beth Ann swiped at her wet face with her sleeve and began kneading a dough ball, her back to the door.
Rosemary picked up another lump of the bread dough, glad for the chance to work her arm muscles until they tired…losing herself in the age-old rhythm of flattening, then folding the dough with the heels of her hands until it felt pliant and springy. The screen door banged. With the sound of water running in the mudroom sink came the tang of Titus’s muck-covered boots.
Rosemary felt him watching the two of them as he dried his hands in the doorway. “Just now making bread?” he asked. “Thought you’d be putting supper together.”
Oh, but that remark rubbed Rosemary wrong, even though he’d said it in a pleasant enough voice. But then, hadn’t a lot of ordinary things bothered her this week? “Had some pies that didn’t cooperate today,” she explained. “The filling got too thick, and then I forgot to set the oven timer so I had to make four more. Sorry.”
Titus grunted. “Could be, if you’d return Matt’s calls, you’d be in a better frame of mind. Just now picked up the phone in the barn, and it’s him again, asking if you’ll please come talk to him.”
Rosemary closed her eyes. �
��You’re wondering why supper’s late, and I’m up to my elbows in flour and dough.”
“I’ve got no time for playing messenger boy,” he replied. “So when I come back from telling him your answer, you’re going to explain what this is all about. And then we’ll discuss the offer I got on the farm and your land today.”
As the door closed, Rosemary’s heart thudded. All week she’d avoided the subject of Matt’s close call in the buggy, and Beth Ann had merely mentioned that a fast car had squealed around them and spooked the horse. Emma Graber’s remark about Matt had been bothering her, too. There would be no avoiding the two of them once she became their neighbor, and she wanted no part of getting caught up in their quarrel, either.
“Uh-oh,” Beth Ann murmured. “Sounds like there’s no backing out now, if Dat’s got a buyer for this place.”
“Jah, life’s moving forward and we’ll have to move with it.”
When Titus returned to the house, they were putting the loaves of bread in the pans to rise. He slipped out of his boots in the mudroom and then settled into his chair at the head of the table as though he might stay there until his meal was served—or until he got the answer he was looking for. “Matt tells me he forgot to turn on the buggy lights last Saturday while bringing you home, and a car came up on you too fast. Is that what this silent treatment is all about, Rosemary?”
Color and heat flooded her face. What else might Matt have admitted to Titus?
Her father-in-law chortled. “Why do I get the feeling something—or somebody—distracted the poor boy? Maybe you don’t remember this, but Joe wrecked two courting buggies, paying attention to his girlfriends instead of watching the road. Cost me a pretty penny to keep wheels under my son before he married you, Rosemary.”