by Marta Perry
“If that is what you want, why don’t you?”
He touched her elbow as they went down the steps, not sure she needed it, but concerned. She’d seemed so fragile this past year.
But she went down easily, with none of the hesitation that sometimes worried him.
“Men,” she said scornfully. “You never see what’s right in front of your noses. I can’t do that, because it would certain-sure hurt Nancy’s feelings.”
He turned that over in his mind. “Men don’t notice things like that because we would never think in that way. We would just say what we want.”
“And then wonder why someone was frosty to you,” Mamm said. “Ach, it’s nothing. Komm, we don’t want to keep them waiting.”
He followed, puzzling over her words. He had never considered how Mamm felt about the way things were. He had taken it for granted that she enjoyed having Nancy assume all the chores that used to be hers.
Well, it was certain-sure he didn’t understand women. One particular woman, to be exact.
Katie had behaved bravely in the face of yesterday’s trouble. She was a strong woman who would deal with what came her way. As for him ... he’d been torn between wanting to blame Katie herself for all the problems that had risen since she’d arrived and wanting to put his arms around her and protect her from any storm.
He couldn’t. Not with Becky wandering around the house like a forlorn ghost, reminding him that he might have been able to prevent her pain if he’d kept her away from Rhoda to begin with.
He entered the kitchen, where Nancy was marshalling her family around the table, the wooden spoon she used to stir the oatmeal in her hand.
“Komm, Becky, wake up,” she said, her tone a bit sharp. “Can’t you see your daad is ready for his coffee? Onkel Caleb, too, most likely.”
Becky, pale and drooping, filled coffee cups, and they sat down to the silent prayer that began the meal.
Like any morning, the boys squabbled among themselves over who had the most brown sugar on his oatmeal and Nancy dispensed justice with a firm hand. Andy ate quickly, talking to Caleb about whether the fine weather would hold long enough to get the rest of the first hay cutting in. Naomi ate quietly, not seeming to pay attention to what was going on, and Becky did the same, eyes downcast.
“So, Caleb,” Nancy said once she had her family sorted, “we never did hear from you about what happened at that Miller woman’s shop yesterday. Ann Schultz told me that someone told her that the windows were broken and red paint splashed all over the quilts for sale.”
“Ann Schultz doesn’t know what she’s talking about if she told you that. No windows were broken, just some paint splashed on the glass.” He couldn’t help it if he sounded annoyed, what with Nancy seeming to wish the affair had been worse than it was.
“Well, whatever happened, all I can say is that it was probably well deserved if the truth were known.”
Everyone at the table stared at Nancy. But before any of the adults could react, Becky was on her feet, cheeks flaming. “That is a terrible thing to say. How could you? Katie Miller has been as nice as can be to me. She doesn’t deserve anything bad, and I wish I had been there to help her.”
Caleb had been surprised by the ill will that Nancy had shown, but he was downright astonished at Becky for standing up to her mamm that way. She had never been so lippy in her life, and Nancy stared at her daughter, apparently speechless, her face flushed.
“Enough.” Andy’s voice was even, but Caleb knew the sound of his brother pushed to the end of his rope. “Becky, you will apologize to your mamm for speaking that way to her.”
Becky, tears spilling over, sniffled. “I’m sorry, Mammi.”
“And Nancy, I am ashamed of you, to speak the way you did about a sister. You should be on your knees asking forgiveness for such unkindness.”
Nancy, cheeks flaming, sank back into her chair. The boys stared into their cereal bowls. Caleb and Naomi glanced at each other and turned wordlessly to their breakfasts. Andy seldom spoke that way to his family, but when he did, there was no doubt that they listened.
It was an awkward meal. Caleb was glad to escape as quickly as possible. He headed out to the barn.
Most of the time he liked living in the house where he’d been born, with family all around him. But once in a while he almost envied Katie her snug little apartment with only her sister for company.
He had begun harnessing the gelding when he realized his mother had followed him to the barn. “Mamm?” He looked at her questioningly. “Is something wrong?”
“I just wanted to be sure you’re helping Katie with the repairs.”
“I helped with the cleanup yesterday, for sure. Lots of folks did.” Now, what exactly was in Mamm’s mind?
“Ja, I know. But does everything look just like new? That will be important to her, not just getting it cleaned up. As long as there is any sign of what happened, she will be reminded.”
Mamm again had more insight than he did. “I will check and see. If the frame needs to be repaired or repainted, I will do that.”
“Gut.” She patted his shoulder, smiling a little. “I did not enjoy that fuss at the breakfast table, but I was glad to see Becky standing up for Katie.”
“Our Becky is growing up,” he said, not sure what his mother was driving at.
“Ja. And I think she is feeling a bit guilty for judging her friend without giving her a chance to defend herself. You should not do that either, ain’t so?”
“I try not to,” he said, stung. “But ever since Katie moved in next to me, things have changed.”
Mamm nodded, agreeing. “Changed, ja. And the biggest change is in you.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” But he could never fool his mamm. She always saw through him.
“You have changed. The ice that Mattie put around your heart has been melting, and I think that Katie is responsible. Don’t let it freeze up again.”
She turned and walked back toward the house, leaving him standing there, speechless.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Katie realized she was hurrying as she came down the street to her shop from Lisa’s, and she deliberately slowed her pace. Amish women didn’t race about like city dwellers, even when, as today, they had much to do.
She and Lisa had been meeting about the Pennsylvania Dutch Days event, which seemed to Katie to be growing out of all resemblance to the simple sales promotion it had once been. Everyone wanted to get involved in the project now that it was up and going, and the enthusiasm threatened to overwhelm Katie.
Lisa, on the other hand, seemed to thrive on it. She was a born organizer, and her big green loose-leaf notebook, which contained details of every part of the project, was becoming famous in Pleasant Valley.
“Look in the green book,” Katie had heard one of the Plain merchants say this morning, “and see who is selling funnel cakes.”
Or if it wasn’t funnel cakes, it was a question about what size tables could be on the sidewalk, and whether the fire company auxiliary could sell barbecue, or any of the hundreds of such answers listed within the bright green covers.
The Englisch seemed to bring their questions straight to Lisa, but Amish were more likely to use Katie as an intermediary. Like it or not, she seemed to have become, in some people’s view at least, one of the organizers.
And if the event flopped? What would they think of her then? That was the question that kept her up at night.
Katie scurried the last few steps to her door, her gaze inevitably drawn to the window. The glass had been polished to a shine, but the dark green paint around the frame had suffered.
Averting her eyes, she went inside, smiling at Rhoda. “Any business while I was out?”
“Five women came in for fabric,” Rhoda reported. “I think the Dutch Days has everyone making something to sell. And two more had questions for you about it, but they said they’d be back. I wrote their names on the pad.”
“Gut.” Rhoda w
as turning into quite the businesswoman. “I have the women for the beginners’ quilting class coming later for their first meeting, so would you mind taking posters around to the Main Street shops for me?”
Rhoda sent a glance toward the window. For a second she looked upset at the thought, but then she gave a determined nod. “Ja, I’ll take them.”
Katie handed over a stack of the posters she’d picked up at Lisa’s. “Lisa says to give everyone as many as they can use.”
Nodding, Rhoda headed for the door. If she hesitated again at the window, Katie couldn’t tell.
Rhoda had barely disappeared from view when the bell jingled again. The Amish woman who entered was vaguely familiar from church and from the Pennsylvania Dutch Days meeting, but Katie couldn’t recall her name.
“Wilkom,” she said. “Can I help you with anything?”
The woman sent a quick, sidelong glance toward Caleb’s shop as she approached the counter. “Ja, I . . . I am chust wondering where to set up a table for my hooked rugs. For the sale, I mean.”
Katie pulled out the sketch map of the street that showed where each stand would be. She spread it out between them on the counter. The woman seemed nervous. Maybe she hadn’t done anything like this before now.
“There are lots of places available.” Katie tapped the paper. “Here is room for another table near Caleb’s shop next door. Or over here by Bishop Mose’s harness shop.”
“I . . . I had best take the one by Bishop Mose.” The woman gripped the edge of the counter with work-worn hands.
Katie poised her pencil over the square to mark it. “I’m sorry, but I don’t remember your name.”
“It’s Ruth. Ruth Weaver.”
It was a wonder Katie’s pencil point didn’t break. This was Mattie Weaver’s mother, then. Of course she wouldn’t want a space in front of Caleb’s store. Katie wrote the name on the square by the harness shop. “There. You’re all set.” She smiled, hoping her face didn’t betray her feelings.
“Denke.” Ruth Weaver turned, as if she meant to leave as quickly as she’d come, but then she hesitated. “You have a nice shop. I’ll come back to look at material another day.”
“Anytime,” Katie said. “I hope the sale goes well for you.”
Ruth nodded, but her gaze was fixed on the archway between the shops, and Katie could make nothing of her expression. It seemed to cover some deep feeling, but it wasn’t anything as simple as anger.
Before Katie could find anything else to say, Ruth hurried out.
Katie let out a long breath. What had the woman been thinking as she stared so long at Caleb’s shop? Well, whatever it was, there was nothing Katie could do about it. She’d best get working on having everything ready for the new quilters.
It had been a surprise when several women had stopped by the shop and asked when Katie would start a beginners’ class. In each case, the woman was an Englisch person who’d heard about the quilting group from Lisa or Melanie or Donna. That original group was bearing fruit already.
Katie had decided that five was the most she could manage with women who had no idea how to quilt. They would make a simple pattern . . . a bars design on a place mat. Fast to do if they were apt learners, and then, once they’d learned the basics, they could make a whole set of place mats.
She began setting up materials in the back room. In addition to what the learners would need, she laid out several examples of quilt patterns and her own quilt in progress. That Lancaster Rose quilt had been suffering from neglect lately, she’d been so busy.
And there was the sound of someone in the shop—maybe another of their volunteers with a question. Before she could reach the door, Caleb was there, seeming to fill the opening.
She hadn’t talked to him since Saturday except under Bishop Mose’s eyes when they were cleaning up yesterday.
“Do you have a moment?”
“Of course.” She arranged her face in what she hoped was a natural smile. Had he heard the voice of the woman who had once been his intended mother-in-law? Katie certainly wouldn’t speak of it unless he did.
He came in, making the small room seem even smaller. “My maam asked about you. She wanted me to say that if you need anything, just tell us.”
“Denke.” Her tension eased. “That is ser kind of her. But you already helped yesterday. There is nothing else to do.”
“I noticed the paint around the window looks a little dull and scratched.” He moved closer, absently fingering the fabric pieces she’d laid out. “I see that the paint can is still in the basement. I’ll take care of touching it up for you.”
“That’s not necessary. I can easily do it myself.” She glanced at his face and wished she hadn’t, because his eyebrows had lifted, and his lips tilted in the slightest smile.
“What was it Bishop Mose said yesterday? Some teaching about humility in accepting help, was it?”
“I think you know full well it was,” she retorted. “But you ...”
She couldn’t very well say that she didn’t want him doing favors for her after standing her up for their buggy ride on Sunday, could she?
“How is Becky?” she said instead. Maybe that subject would remind him.
“Better today. She is actually showing a little spirit.”
“Using it to vent her anger with Rhoda?”
“No, using it to defend you.”
“What?” Katie could only stare at him. “Why?”
Caleb’s gaze slid away from hers. “I’m afraid Nancy was being outspoken about the vandalism. Andy talked to her pretty sharp about that unkindness. But not before our Becky had her own say about how gut you have been to her.”
Katie wasn’t sure whether to respond to Nancy’s ill will or Becky’s defense. In the end she did neither. “Is that what most folks are thinking—that the vandalism is because Tommy Esch kissed Rhoda?”
Caleb’s forehead furrowed. “I don’t know about most folks. Nancy jumped to that conclusion. What does Bishop Mose say?”
“He . . . He seems to have some ideas.” Confiding in Caleb might not be the best thing.
“Katie?” The gravity in his tone brought her gaze to Caleb’s face again. He leaned toward her, hand planted on the table. “Will you tell me what Rhoda says happened at the mall?”
She hesitated. Hadn’t she just reminded herself that confiding in him could be a mistake? But he was looking at her with such honest concern that her misgivings slipped away.
“Rhoda says that she and Becky were at the food court, and the other girls were ignoring them. So when the boys came to her and Becky, they played up to them a bit. You don’t need to tell me that Rhoda was the leader in that, because I’m sure she was.”
“She’s more outgoing than Becky is,” he said, his tone neutral.
“Ja, well, Rhoda went to the restroom, and when she was coming back, Tommy grabbed her and kissed her. Apparently Becky saw that. Maybe she didn’t see Rhoda box his ears for him.”
“No,” he said slowly, “she didn’t. And I guess she didn’t let her friend explain, either.”
“No.” Katie looked at him steadily. Any more than you did, Caleb.
“I hope Rhoda gave him a gut hard clout.” Caleb’s reaction was unexpected.
“Ja, I expect she did. Molly thinks . . .”
“What?” He was sharp.
“That maybe the other boys dared him to do it.”
He nodded slowly. “That seems most likely. Tommy isn’t the kind of boy who’d think of a mean jest on . . .” He let that trail off, because the shop door bell had rung.
Katie hurried out, very conscious of Caleb right behind her.
An Amish boy stood looking around the shop. Katie tried to place him, but couldn’t.
“Joseph?” Caleb strode toward him. “Katie, this is Joseph Auten. What brings you here, Joseph? Thinking of taking up quilting?”
The boy grinned. “Bishop sent me with notes. One for Katie Miller and one for you.”
; Caleb held out his hand. “Hand them over then, and get on back to work.”
The boy gave each of them a piece of folded yellow tablet paper. “Bishop said not to dally.” He scooted to the door and was gone in a moment.
Katie frowned at the paper. At both pieces of paper. Why was Bishop Mose writing to each of them? She flipped the paper open. It was the shortest of notes, asking her and Rhoda to come to his house that evening at seven.
She showed it to Caleb. “Is yours the same?”
He scanned it. “Ja, except that it asks me to bring Becky. If I were guessing, I would say that Bishop Mose has found out something.”
“But what?” Katie’s mind scampered from the vandalism to Rhoda’s behavior and back again.
Caleb shrugged. “I guess we’ll find that out at seven tonight.” He turned away, and then back again. “About Sunday,” he said abruptly. “I’m sorry. It was wrong of me not to let you know I wasn’t coming. . . .”
“I understood,” she said quickly, not wanting to let him guess at how his failure to send a note had hurt.
But she suspected he knew anyway. He looked for a moment as if he’d say something more, but then he turned and walked off.
Katie and Rhoda left home in plenty of time to walk to Bishop Mose’s house on the edge of the village that evening. Fortunately Rhoda hadn’t given her an argument about wearing her bonnet. It was one thing to dash over to a neighboring shop on a summer day wearing only the kapp over her hair, but a summons to the bishop’s place called for a bonnet.
“What do you think he wants, Katie?” Rhoda asked the question for perhaps the tenth time.
“I don’t know the answer to that now any more than I did every other time you asked me, ain’t so? Since he wants both Caleb and Becky to be there, as well, I can only guess it has to do with what happened at the mall.”
Rhoda’s heart-shaped face was pinched. “It’s going to be so embarrassing,” she moaned. “Can’t we just forget about it?”
“We must trust the bishop to know what is right.”
“But I don’t want to blame anybody or get anyone else in trouble. Even Tommy. I just want to be friends with Becky again.”