A Simple Wish

by Charlotte Hubbard

  Rebecca sucked in a deep breath, wanting to believe that statement. In her mind, however, she was still seeing Wyatt with that other woman. “You think he has a reasonable explanation for her?”

  “If he does, wouldn’t it be a shame to walk away based on a faulty assumption?” Mamma slipped her arms around Rebecca and hugged her close. “And if he’s playing you false, it’s better to find out now rather than after you’ve married him, jah?”

  Rebecca found herself smiling in spite of her hurt feelings. Mamma’s down-to-earth attitude—and her belief that Wyatt was worth a second chance—was settling her frayed nerves. She reveled in the warmth and pride that flowed from her mother, savoring her embrace. So much of the lifestyle and career Rebecca enjoyed flew in the face of Old Order beliefs, yet Miriam Lantz Hooley hadn’t given up on her and would never, ever forsake her. Mamma’s love was the biggest miracle in Rebecca’s life.

  So listen to her. She’s wise. She wants all the best for you.

  Rebecca kissed Mamma’s cheek. “What would I do without you?” she whispered. “I’ll think about this issue—pray about it—and reconsider my opinion of Wyatt.”

  Squeezing her again, Mamma eased away with a furtive smile. “I’ll expect you both here for Sunday dinner—or I’ll be waiting for a very gut excuse as to why you haven’t put your relationship with Wyatt back in order.”

  Rebecca’s breath caught at the thought of approaching Wyatt so soon after he’d crushed her. But there was no arguing with her mother. Amish folks believed that forgiveness should follow close on the heels of any perceived offense. Only backsliders allowed their anger to fester.

  “All right, Mamma, for you I can do that,” she said after a moment. “Denki for listening.”

  “It’s a pleasure and a privilege to be a part of your life again, child,” Mamma whispered. “God gave me a second chance to love you, so why would I want to do otherwise?”

  After they finished putting the kitchen to rights, Rebecca chatted with Ben on the porch for a few minutes. She was delighted that little Bethlehem reached for her, babbling in baby talk, and by the time she was heading for her car she felt healed and restored.

  The laptop on her front seat gave her an idea—and she wondered why she hadn’t thought of it before. Puh. You only had eyes for Wyatt when you did your previous Internet searches.

  On the table in her kitchen, Rebecca opened the computer and searched for the photographs of the woman who’d been in Wyatt’s trailer. She navigated to the website for his Lexington horse farm, where several images of the chic blond appeared—most of them featuring her in the strapless red evening gown Rebecca envied.

  “What’s your name?” Rebecca muttered, trying to locate the information on the Internet. “Why hasn’t Wyatt identified you on his site? Why doesn’t he want people to know who you are?”

  Doubt niggled at her as she continued to search—until she finally clicked on a Google image and found the woman who’d caused her such torment. “Vanessa Herriott,” she murmured, and then typed the name into a slot on a website that listed addresses, phone numbers, arrest and law enforcement reports—all manner of information you could access about people for a membership fee. She used this service to check out her clients’ backgrounds before she agreed to design sites for them. Why hadn’t she thought to look up the socialite in the red dress before?

  “Hmm. No record of criminal activity or delinquent taxes . . . thirty-seven years old . . . associated with Wyatt McKenzie,” Rebecca read aloud.

  That could mean several different things. Unless she wanted to endure a lot of questions from Mamma on Sunday about why she and Wyatt weren’t coming for dinner, she needed to talk to him. Soon.

  This isn’t going to be easy, Rebecca thought with a sigh.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  With the banging of hammers and the whine of drills filling the air around her at the McKenzie barn raising Saturday morning, Loretta gazed wistfully at a familiar, lithe figure. Drew and his brother were helping to raise a completed end of the barn—or at least its skeleton of studs and a truss—along with other men, as though they labored this way every day. Watching Amos Coblentz’s skilled crewmen working alongside local volunteers was an inspiring sight—a study in true teamwork.

  Loretta, however, felt left out. Alone. She and her two sisters had volunteered to serve sticky buns and other goodies, along with cold drinks, at the midmorning break, which would be in about fifteen minutes. As Edith and Rosalyn playfully lifted the twins high into the air, making them laugh and kick delightedly, Loretta glumly wondered if she would ever have children . . . or appear as deeply happy as Edith.

  Maybe I shouldn’t have been so hasty to back out of my engagement, she thought for the hundredth time this week. At least if I married Drew, I would stand a chance of leaving home someday. I can’t imagine he’d want to live at our place long, crabby as Dat has been this week.

  To occupy herself, Loretta began separating the large plastic cups and pouring lemonade into them from the big, insulated cooler on the wagon. The yellow liquid streamed from the spigot quickly, and she soon began to fill other glasses with tea. As she was adding ice from another big cooler so the drinks would stay cold, Amos called out to his workmen to take their break.

  “You’ve been doing all the work, sister.” Edith smiled as Louisa babbled and reached for Loretta. “Your niece is ready for somebody new to entertain her, I suspect. She sees her mamm day in and day out, after all.”

  Loretta found a smile for the little girl dressed in pink, whose flyaway wisps of black hair framed her pixie face. “More likely, Louisa will entertain me,” she said. As Loretta bounced the baby against her shoulder, Edith removed the plastic wrap from the trays of sticky buns, cinnamon rolls, and brownies.

  Rosalyn glanced toward the crowd of men approaching the wagon. As she placed the drinks on trays, she said, “Do you suppose Drew will say anything today? Maybe ask you to talk things over?”

  Loretta sighed. Rosalyn and Edith had been heartsick when they’d learned that Drew had proposed and Loretta had backed out of the engagement minutes later. “Why would he?” she murmured. “I’m the one who walked away.”

  Edith slipped her arm around Loretta’s shoulders. “But Drew stands to lose out on a fine wife if he lets you get away,” she pointed out. “Asa and I are staying out of it. We know you two will do the right thing without any meddling from us.”

  “Or from me,” Rosalyn added with a shake of her head. “It’s not as though your older maidel sister can offer any advice.”

  “Somebody wonderful will come along for you, Rosalyn,” Edith insisted cheerfully. She strapped the twins into their carrier baskets sitting atop the wagon bed. “God just hasn’t yet maneuvered him into the right place at the right time.”

  Loretta picked up a tray of baked goods and approached the men who were closest to the break wagon. She didn’t care to discuss her derailed romance in front of these fellows—and for all she knew, Drew had spread the word that she’d walked away from his offer. “Seth, you and your brothers have surely worked up an appetite this morning,” she remarked as she extended the tray toward the Brennemans.

  Aaron snatched up a cinnamon roll and began to uncurl the outer layer. “At least it’s not as hot this morning as it was at our last barn raising,” he remarked.

  “Amos brought along a few more fellows from Cedar Creek today,” Micah put in as he chose a sticky bun. “Bishop Vernon brought along two cordless impact drivers. He and Bishop Tom seem to have a contest going to see who can drive the most screws the fastest.”

  Wyatt stepped up and selected a big brownie. “I was surprised to see Vernon’s fancy tools. Didn’t figure an Amish bishop would own such top-of-the-line equipment.”

  “Vernon’s a cabinetmaker, so his work’s easier with the right tools,” Micah pointed out.

  Seth chuckled. “If we’re to build anything efficiently, it makes sense for us to work around our ban on electric
ity,” he explained. “Can you imagine how long it would take to raise a barn with hand saws and basic old screwdrivers?”

  Wyatt laughed, and then winced a little as he touched the bandage on his face. “You Amish men have a lot of fun on the job,” he said before smiling carefully at Loretta. “When I heard that the women call their work gatherings frolics, I was impressed, too. Attitude makes all the difference.”

  “Many hands make light work,” Loretta said with a nod. “What fun is it to labor alone?”

  She didn’t ask him about the bandages on one side of his face and neck, as she was barely acquainted with the newest property owner in town. The injury probably hurt, judging from the fact that Wyatt wasn’t smiling as widely as he usually did.

  Preacher Ben came up to take a cinnamon roll, glancing at Wyatt. “Did the razor bite you this morning?” he asked lightly.

  Wyatt’s blue-gray eyes lost their shine. “Got burned,” he stated. “Need to keep the skin covered while I’m working in the sun.”

  Ben nodded as though he might know something he wasn’t telling, but he moved on to take a glass from the tray Rosalyn was holding.

  It occurred to Loretta that Rebecca wasn’t on site with her camera today, as she’d been during the first barn raising. From what she’d seen and heard, Rebecca and Wyatt were spending a lot of time together whenever he was in town—and she’d clearly been smitten with him that day he’d first introduced himself in Nora’s shop.

  Has something happened between them this week as well? Rebecca was in a fine mood yesterday morning while she was putting together Nora’s newsletter.

  As Loretta considered this idea, she saw Drew in her peripheral vision—and he was making a point of avoiding her. He took a glass of iced tea from Edith’s tray, appearing as tight-lipped as Wyatt, and then helped himself to a couple of fried pies from the tray on the wagon bed. Without a word to anyone, Drew took off toward town with a few other men who were probably heading to the restroom at the café.

  Would it be so bad to live at home after we married? With another man in the house, maybe Dat wouldn’t complain and criticize Rosalyn and me so much.

  Loretta sighed, gazing at Drew’s retreating figure. Last Sunday they’d been on top of the world, so happy and in love and planning their wedding . . . and it was her fault they weren’t celebrating their engagement. Even as Drew had dropped her off at the house, he’d told her he loved her, and that they could talk about this housing issue.

  Why hadn’t she listened?

  “How about if I take your tray, Loretta?” Edith asked softly. “I think you have something—or somebody—on your mind right now, jah?”

  Loretta smiled gratefully at her insightful sister. Edith was the youngest of the three of them, but her heart had always reached out first when folks were hurting. “Something needs to be said, and I’m the one to say it,” she murmured.

  “I bet Drew’s ready to listen, too. He looks every bit as miserable as you do.” Edith squeezed her shoulder. “It’ll all work out, Loretta. I just know it.”

  Inhaling deeply to steady her nerves, Loretta nodded. “You always get it right, Edith, so who am I to doubt you? It’s me I wonder about sometimes.”

  With that, Loretta started toward the county highway and the river bridge, remaining a short distance behind another bunch of men heading in that direction. You’ve got to help me, Lord, or I’ll mess this up again, she prayed as she walked past Luke’s mill. I really don’t want to be a two-time loser.

  * * *

  When Drew came out of the restroom situated between the Grill N Skillet and the Schrocks’ quilt shop, he paused to inhale the mouthwatering aromas of the meats and side dishes Josiah and Savilla were preparing for the lunch shift. The café wouldn’t open for another hour, but the Witmers had left a side door open so the work crew could come inside to use the facilities.

  He stopped at the pass-through window to say hello to Savilla, who was taking bread from the oven—six loaf pans were positioned side by side on a wooden server she was holding with both gloved hands. “Wow, that’s a great way to handle a lot of bread at one time,” he remarked.

  Naomi Brenneman, the carpenters’ mamm, waved at him from a stove, where she was stirring sausage in a skillet. “We try to make things easier and more efficient,” she said cheerfully. “Savilla’s a whiz when it comes to making a lot of food in a short time.”

  Savilla laughed. “We’ll be feeding a multitude again today,” she put in. “It’s in my best interest to have plenty of everything for you fellows who’re raising Wyatt’s barn. Running out of food is the ultimate sin when you’re running a restaurant.”

  As Drew looked at all the lidded metal pans that would soon hold food in the buffet’s steam table, he couldn’t imagine the Witmers running short—but in a couple of hours they’d be open for their usual lunch business, as well as feeding Wyatt’s workers. How Savilla and Josiah estimated the amount they would cook and serve each day was beyond him.

  “I’m looking forward to a really gut meal,” he said. “Denki again for taking care of us in such fine style.”

  When Drew stepped away from the serving window he stopped suddenly, swallowing hard. Loretta was sitting at the table nearest the side door. He couldn’t possibly leave the building without walking past her. Speaking to her.

  Here’s your chance to make another offer. Don’t blow it, his inner voice warned.

  Drew focused on her, taking in the tightness of her face and the stiff way she sat in the sturdy wooden chair. When Loretta looked up and saw him gazing at her, she sat straighter—as though she didn’t know whether to stay or to rush out the door. Dozens of times since Sunday, he’d thought about walking over to the Riehl place to talk to her, yet his pride had prevented him from being the one to speak first. She’d wounded him, after all.

  It had been the longest, loneliest week of his life.

  Drew headed for the table where she sat, his heart pounding. Smiling nervously, he sat down across from her. “Loretta, I’ve been meaning to—”

  “Drew, I’ve been a stubborn fool and—”

  “—suggest that we could maybe live—”

  “—I’ll be sorry for the rest of my life if I don’t—”

  “—in my apartment instead of at your house.”

  “—reconsider your offer to . . .” Loretta’s eyes widened. “What did you just say?” she whispered.

  Drew laughed at the rapid-fire conversation that had just cleared the logjam of their tangled emotions. He reached across the table. “I said we could live in my apartment—if you don’t mind having to fix it up some,” he added, clasping her small, sturdy hands between his. “Why didn’t I think of that last week when we argued?”

  Loretta heaved a sigh of relief. “I’ve missed you so much this week, I don’t really care where we live,” she murmured. “I just want to be your wife, Drew. I’m sorry I was so hardheaded about not living with Dat.”

  He smiled all the way down to his soul, feeling as though this pretty young woman had just saved his life. “I can certainly understand why you feel that way, sugar,” he said softly. “If it means that much to you, we’ll live across the street—”

  “And we could keep track of his comings and goings from your upstairs windows,” she said as the realization dawned on her. “Or Rosalyn could let us know if he was planning to be gone. But then Rosalyn . . .”

  “Jah, that’s the way I see it. Although, at the end of the day,” Drew said as he gazed into her hazel eyes, “your dat is responsible for keeping his promise to Bishop Tom. Either he’ll repay his debt—straighten up and fly right—or he won’t. I really doubt that my living in his house to act as his watchdog will make much difference.”

  Loretta gripped his hands, pausing to think about what he’d said and to consider the consequences of moving to Drew’s apartment. “You’re right,” she said softly. “Dat got himself into serious trouble—whatever it was—and only he can dig himself out of i
t. I’m really surprised the bishop didn’t call him out . . . didn’t have him confessing on his knees after church last week.”

  “Bishop Tom and Preacher Ben lit a fire under him with their sermons and gave him every chance to come clean,” Drew pointed out. He studied Loretta’s face, sensing some hesitation behind her happiness. “What else is on your mind, pretty girl?”

  Loretta sighed. “I guess now that I have a choice of places to live after we marry,” she began, “I’m thinking about what it’ll be like for Rosalyn if I move out and she’s the only one at home with Dat. Day in and day out, that’ll be really hard on her. I certainly wouldn’t want to be in that position.”

  Drew nodded. “There’s that. And my suggestion to live at your place, at least for a while, still stands,” he said, holding her hands in his. “We can live wherever you think is best, Loretta.”

  The clouds left her eyes and she beamed at him. “You’re a brave, generous man, Drew, and I love you for the way you’re willing to step in for us girls and deal with Dat.”

  Drew shrugged a little awkwardly. Loretta’s compliment filled his soul. Considering the way he’d deceived his brother and Edith before they’d married, it still felt like a miracle that Loretta loved him and wanted to be his wife. “I love you, too, Loretta, and I’ll do all I can to make you happy,” he murmured as he rose from his chair. “Right now your dat is the furthest thing from my mind, though. Come here.”

  His heart turned a cartwheel when she sprang into his arms and met his mouth with her soft, eager lips. Drew pulled her close, kissing her thoroughly before whispering, “Does this mean you’ll marry me after all? For sure and for certain?”

  Loretta laughed. Her expression, filled with longing and love, was all the answer he needed. “I will, Drew,” she replied breathlessly. “I promise not to be so hardheaded about wanting things to go my way.”

  “And I promise to love you always,” he murmured before kissing her again. “I feel so much better now.”

  “Jah, let’s decide right this minute not to fight after we’re married,” she said earnestly. “It’s too hard on my heart when we disagree.”