Courting Cate

by Leslie Gould

  I shuddered. It was. The envelope contained the money they’d promised Pete—he’d just accepted it.

  I stumbled a little, as if I’d forgotten how to use my feet. But then I started moving again, clomping down the stairs in my boots. Martin glanced my way and then ducked his head.

  Pete shoved the envelope into the pocket of his coat.

  Betsy stood at the bottom of the stairs, off to the side but staring up at me. She’d seen what had transpired too.

  “Ready?” Pete asked without turning toward me.

  I didn’t try to hide the sharpness in my voice. “I need to give these to Nan.” I held up the books. When I reached the bottom stair, I dropped my bag at his feet. He grimaced but picked it up as I passed by.

  Nan was just around the corner, at the living room window. The trees swayed in the wind and rain began coming down in sheets.

  “It’s a horrible day to travel,” she said. I was sure she was thinking of the accident that had killed her fiancé.

  I gave her a half hug and handed her the books. “Betsy still has a few of mine,” I said.

  She cradled the books in her arms. “I’ll renew them.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “I hope there’s a bookmobile near Pete’s home.”

  “There isn’t,” she answered. “Just a library in Randolph.”

  A car pulled into the driveway and honked.

  Nan smiled sadly.

  Dat reached for me and gave me a hug. “Write.” His voice was even deeper than usual. “Let me know when you’re coming home.”

  Next he shook Pete’s hand. Pete gave him a solemn, silent look, and opened the door, nodding at me. I pulled my cape from the peg by the door and looked for Betsy.

  She stepped forward and we hugged. Pete cleared his throat.

  She didn’t apologize. Disappointed, I let her go, and she stepped back to Levi’s side.

  I led the way, pulling my hood over my head. When we reached the car, the lid to the trunk rose and Pete slung my bag and his pack inside.

  Then, already soaked, I climbed into the back seat while he climbed into the front. I didn’t bother to look back at my house and wave. My humiliation was already complete, or so I thought.

  CHAPTER

  16

  I seethed in the back seat of the car, replaying the passing of the envelope in my head over and over, wishing I’d told Dat what had happened. It was too late now—even if I found a phone to call him from, he wouldn’t listen to his messages until Tuesday.

  When we reached Highway 30, the driver pulled over into the parking lot of a convenience store.

  “Thank you.” Pete opened his door.

  The driver pressed a button. Behind me, the trunk opened.

  “Come on,” Pete said to me.

  “What’s going on?”

  “We’re getting out here.”

  Perhaps there was a bus stop nearby. Traveling that way would be less expensive than hiring a car for the entire trip. And I knew Pete was concerned about money, although he did have the envelope from M&M.

  I gasped. In the rush to get out the door, I’d forgotten my purse. I didn’t have my ID card or my debit card or any of the cash I’d tucked away for an emergency.

  “We need to go back,” I said, “and get my purse.”

  Pete was standing outside the car now, the rain beating down on Dat’s black hat. “We don’t have time for that. Besides, we’re going to make it on my money—not yours or your father’s.”

  I bristled as I crawled from the car. That was ridiculous. Especially since my father’s money was the reason he’d married me.

  Pete was already at the trunk, pulling out our bags. He tossed mine to me, catching me off guard. It fell to the ground, landing at my feet. Befuddled, I picked it up, not wanting it to get wet. It wasn’t like Pete to act so abruptly.

  I rose quickly.

  He had both hands up. “Sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  I held on to the bag as he ambled over to the driver’s window and handed him some money.

  I remained statue-still.

  “Over here,” Pete called out, heading toward the highway. He stopped before I reached him and pulled out a cardboard sign. For a horrified moment I thought it was to beg for money. It wasn’t. But it was nearly as bad. Jamestown, NY was written in bold letters. That was all.

  “We’re hitchhiking?” I sputtered.

  He nodded.

  “No,” I said, stepping backward.

  “I do it all the time.”

  “I don’t.”

  “You do now.” He smiled. “For better or worse.”

  “I don’t think that was in our vows.” I couldn’t be certain because I hadn’t been listening, but I was pretty sure I’d never heard it at any other Amish weddings I’d been to. I thought it was an Englisch thing.

  I started to step away, intending to leave a message for Dat, even if he wouldn’t get it for a few days, but Pete grabbed my arm. “You wanted a marriage of convenience, right?”

  “Jah, but this is far from convenient.”

  He smirked. “But this is what you chose. We’re doing it my way. Bear with me.”

  Not that word again. “Bear?”

  I could only hope his bad behavior was due to stress.

  “I told you I’m stubborn. You’ll have to learn to live with it.” His eyes narrowed. “Wife.”

  My eyebrows shot upward. “Jah, well, watch me be persistent.”

  A minivan pulling to the side of the highway interrupted us. Pete stepped forward as the passenger window rolled down.

  A middle-aged woman leaned toward him. She looked harmless. “I can take you partway,” she called out.

  Pete motioned to me. “You sit up front,” he said.

  The rain had soaked through my wool cape. My feet were damp inside my new boots. And water dripped off my icy hands. Regardless of Pete’s wishes, I would leave a message for Dat as soon as I could. But in the meantime, I opened the door of the van, greeting the woman and then glancing toward the back.

  “It’s just me,” she said. “I promise. No serial killers or anything like that.”

  “We’re wet,” I said.

  “All the more reason to get in quickly,” she responded.

  Pete took my bag and opened the side door as I climbed into the front seat, easing my hood from my head, noting the smell of wet wool.

  “I’m headed to Elmira. My mom’s ill and needs some help. You two look safe—I thought you’d be good company.”

  “Safe, yes,” I said. At least I was. “About the good company, I’m not so sure.”

  The woman laughed out loud, even though I hadn’t meant to be funny. In no time we were chatting as she drove, with Pete mostly staying quiet in the back. I simply told her we were going to visit my husband’s parents. She didn’t notice me cringe when I said the word husband. Thankfully she didn’t ask how long we’d been married.

  I dozed after Harrisburg for a little while and awoke to Pete and the woman talking.

  “We should get out here,” Pete said. “Before you head east.”

  It was still raining and I hated to leave the nice woman and her warm van. It was nearing five o’clock, and although the day was still light, it was gray enough out to feel like late evening.

  She and Pete decided the best place for us to catch a ride would be on the north side of Williamsport, where the highway split. We would be heading northwest.

  After pulling into the parking lot of a grocery store, the woman thanked us for the company and wished us luck. I’d hardly eaten at breakfast or at our wedding dinner and had grown hungry, but Pete didn’t suggest going into the store to buy food, so I didn’t either.

  In a couple of minutes we were back on the side of the highway. Pete had turned his sign around. This time it read Cattaraugus County, NY. I couldn’t imagine anyone zipping along the highway was headed there.

  And I was right, at least for the next three hours. The
only blessing was that the rain had stopped and there was a boulder up the road a few yards for me to sit on.

  Finally, just after eight, a man in a pickup stopped. He had a gun rack in the rear window and a hound dog in the truck bed. Pete opened the passenger door, indicating for me to crawl in. I shook my head. After a long awkward moment, Pete took the lead and scooted next to the man, and then I climbed in, pulling the heavy door shut behind me. We both held our bags on our laps.

  The man didn’t seem very interested in us, nor did he talk about himself except to say he was going as far as Lawrenceville, just over the New York state border. I wondered how much farther Pete’s parents’ place was from there but didn’t bother to ask. I’d find out soon enough.

  The day darkened as the sun set, casting a glow through the bank of gray clouds. The engine of the truck was loud, but after a while I dozed again. When I awoke it took me a split second to realize my head was resting against Pete’s shoulder. I jerked it up quickly, wiping my mouth.

  It was completely dark, and the rain fell again. Soon afterward, the man pulled the pickup to the side of the road.

  “Is there somewhere with streetlights, perhaps?” Pete asked, as politely as ever.

  The man grunted and pulled back onto the highway. A few minutes later lights appeared and then a gas station.

  “How’s this?” The man slowed the pickup.

  “Perfect.”

  As the driver stopped, Pete thanked him and we climbed out. My legs were stiff, and I desperately needed to use the restroom. I headed toward the minimart, thankful the facilities were clean. I couldn’t help but look in the mirror. My face was as pale as my new white Kapp, and my eyes were rimmed with red, even though I hadn’t been crying.

  When I came out of the restroom Pete was at the counter buying a bottle of water and a bag of trail mix.

  “Want anything?” He held the water in his hand.

  “You buying?”

  “Yep.” His face was matter-of-fact.

  I opened the cooler and pulled out another water and then turned toward the rack of candy. Nothing looked appealing. I chose a bag of cashews and put them on the counter while Pete dug into his pocket for more change.

  As he paid a second time, he asked the clerk what he thought our chances of finding a ride were.

  The man chuckled. “About a hundred to one. Although in those outfits you might get lucky.”

  I bit my tongue until we stepped outside. “Can’t you call someone?”

  “And ask them to send a buggy?”

  “How about a driver?”

  He shook his head.

  “You don’t know anyone who would come this far at night?”

  “That’s not it. I don’t have the money to pay anyone to come this far at night.”

  “Use the money in the envelope.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m not stupid.”

  He didn’t even blush.

  I turned on my heels and started marching toward the store.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Calling home.”

  “You think your Dat’s in his office this late at night?”

  “I’m going to call our Englisch neighbors.” Why hadn’t I called them hours ago? “It’s an emergency.”

  He stepped quickly, planting himself in front of me before I reached the door. “If we don’t have a ride in an hour, I’ll call a driver.”

  I glared at him.

  “Deal?” He stuck out his hand.

  I turned my back to him and marched to the entrance to the store, parking myself under the awning. The storm had picked up again.

  My back ached. My head hurt. My eyes burned.

  The rain cascaded off Pete’s hat as if it were competing with Niagara Falls. Still, he stood there with his thumb in the air. One car slowed but kept on going. Then five others buzzed on by. There was a fifteen-minute lull and then another car sped past.

  I checked my watch over and over. After forty-five minutes, I began rehearsing what I would say to our neighbors at midnight. Ten minutes later, just when I thought I had it all down, a sedan pulled over, its lights reflecting off the wet pavement.

  The rain had stopped again, and although I couldn’t hear what the driver said through the passenger window, I heard Pete say, “Cattaraugus County?” And then, “Great!” He motioned toward me.

  I trudged to the car and climbed into the back seat, securing my bag on the floor.

  The man was older, probably sixty or so. He wore a baseball cap and a flannel shirt. “Feels like winter, doesn’t it?” he said.

  “Jah,” I answered.

  “It’s good for the crops, though,” he said. At that he and Pete started talking about farming. He grew corn. He’d been to Savona to look at a tractor for sale there and then had dinner with his sister and her husband. “Stayed quite a bit longer than I meant to—got to talking.” He was returning to his farm north of Randolph, but he said he’d take us all the way to Pete’s parents’ farm, because it wasn’t too far past his.

  “I’m just happy to have company along for the ride,” he said.

  I stared into the blackness as we drove. The dread that had been building for the last two weeks felt as if it were about to crest. Not only had I just entered a new geographical state, I was also entering a state of both emotional and physical exile. Technically I lived on a farm, but civilization was close by. From the headlights, I could make out field after field after field, some lined with split-rail fences, some not. Very rarely there was a farmhouse and a barn, illuminated by a light fixed atop a telephone pole. I had entered a desolate land.

  Pete and the man were talking about local news. It turned out they knew a few of the same people, and the man had heard of his family.

  “I know lots of you Amish have big families,” the man said. “But fourteen—that has to be a winner.”

  That many children certainly wasn’t unheard of in any Amish community.

  The man slapped his knee, and the car drifted a little, the headlights illuminating a herd of cattle, huddled together. I held my breath until the man pointed the car down the middle of the lane again.

  “I have to say, children really are a blessing,” he said. “We only had two. During their high-school years, that seemed pretty wise. But now, I wish we’d had more. Only have one grandchild—with no more on the horizon. There’s a lot that your people do that I envy. If I’m honest.” He slapped his knee again as if he’d said something funny.

  I couldn’t help but smile. He was definitely a likable person.

  They were silent for a moment, and then the man looked into the rearview mirror, at me, and said, “You’re a quiet one.”

  Pete chuckled. I blushed.

  “Cat got your tongue?” The man shifted his eyes back to the road.

  “I suppose so,” I answered.

  “For the first time ever,” Pete muttered.

  I bristled, but the man didn’t seem to have heard my husband’s comment.

  “My missus is a quiet one. . . .” The man went on to talk about his wife. It was clear he probably didn’t give her a chance to speak, but I was thankful for the man’s talkativeness. I could listen to him going on and on and try not to think of what was ahead of me.

  We passed through a few small communities and then, just after two o’clock, nearly fourteen hours after we’d left Paradise, Pete told the man to turn off the highway at the next left. “You can let us out,” Pete said. “We can walk the rest of the way. It’s not far.”

  “Good idea,” the man said. “Otherwise I might wake up your folks.”

  That seemed like a pretty lame excuse to me, but because I was playing the role of the dutiful wife, I didn’t say anything as I climbed out of the car.

  Pete thanked the man profusely, and I added my gratitude too. We waited for him to back onto the highway, and then Pete took off down the lane, with me a few steps behind him. On the bright side, it wasn’t rai
ning, but it was still pitch-black. And the road was muddy, even though it was graveled. After several precarious steps I managed to land in a pothole—full of water. I squealed as I pulled my foot out. I couldn’t see the water dripping out of my boot but could feel it. Pete turned and took my bag, as if that would help me see better.

  “Got a flashlight in that pack?” I asked, as sweetly as I could.

  “Probably.” He unzipped it and dug around a little. “I’m just not sure where. But we’re almost there.” He might have known the lane like the back of his hand, but I certainly did not. I trudged along, still a few steps behind him. Clearly I wasn’t worth the effort—or maybe the battery power.

  I stepped in another pothole, soaking my other foot, but didn’t miss a beat as I continued my march. I assumed Pete’s Mamm expected us and had a meal laid out. The women in their district would have brought food over, with his Dat being in the hospital and all. Then I needed a hot shower. Surely she would be fine with me sleeping in tomorrow, considering it would be just a couple of hours before dawn by the time we got to bed.

  Bed. I shivered. Maybe Pete had thought ahead. He probably wouldn’t want his parents to know we were sleeping separately. But maybe there were two rooms side by side, on the opposite side of the house from his parents’ room.

  An acidic whiff of manure stopped my thoughts. In no time it was so strong I had to cover my nose. Pete increased his stride. I stumbled behind him. The clouds parted a little, and I could make out the tip of the crescent moon. It wasn’t much light—just enough to see the large dairy off to the left.

  “Is that yours?” I asked.

  “Nah. The neighbors.”

  I pinched my nose, appalled. The lane curved a little, thankfully, away from the dairy. The smell grew a little less intense.

  “There are a few things I should tell you about my family,” Pete said.

  I yawned. He’d had every opportunity to tell me anything I needed to know. Why had he waited until now?

  “My Mamm can be a bit . . .” He seemed to be at a loss for words.