Plain Promise

by Beth Wiseman

  Lillian pulled her head back and squinted her eyes. “Ya? What for?”

  “Don’t know. But that assistant lady asked me to stock the refrigerator with all kinds of strange foods every week. Some of them I couldn’t even find at the market.” She paused. “And he doesn’t want any cleanup service. I reckon he’ll have to wash his own towels and linens in the washing machine and dryer.”

  “Hmm. That is odd,” Lillian mused, still gazing toward the cottage and the fancy car in the barn.

  Kade stared at the TV screen and wondered if he could survive without basic cable for the next three months. The antique antenna provided a whopping four channels. No CNN or other national channels, only local news that was fuzzy at best. But this is what he wanted, he reminded himself—away from everything.

  He leaned back on the couch and propped his feet on the coffee table, trying to ward off his festering thoughts about Alicia. It wasn’t as if she’d broken his heart or anything, but once again he’d let himself be used and fooled by a member of the opposite sex. One shiny new car, a diamond bracelet—and pretty much anything else she’d asked for—and then she was gone. Story of his life. Young, attractive women interested in his money, nothing more.

  Kade glanced around at his modest accommodations. This was hardly what he had in mind when his friend Val had suggested he get out of Los Angeles to unwind. Val had brought his ex-wife here and said the peacefulness would help Kade clear his head. Though it must not have worked for Val—he and his wife had divorced shortly after their trip. Val never wanted to talk about what had happened, and he seemed to be mending his soul with travel. Kade could rarely get hold of him these days. But Kade understood. Kade’s soul could certainly use some mending as well.

  The roaring fire warmed the room, and his refrigerator and pantry were stocked, though he couldn’t identify some of his host’s offerings. Amish food, he presumed. He wished it wasn’t so cold outside, but he didn’t feel the need to venture out anyway. That would mean interaction with others, and he wasn’t up for that. Besides, he found the simple cottage to be quite cozy. He’d hole up here and try to heal himself of all that ailed him. It was a long list.

  For whatever reason, he thought of the Amish woman he was renting from. He couldn’t remember her name. But he could recall her ivory skin, incredible blue eyes, and strands of wavy red hair spiraling against her cheek from beneath a cap on her head. She was quite lovely, even without a stitch of makeup on her face and clothed in a baggy dress to her knees. And she was tall and slender. Like Alicia. Kade’s brows narrowed as he grumbled in disgust. Blasted woman.

  Still. It was no reason to be rude to the Amish gal when he’d first arrived—demanding he park his car in the barn and hastily accepting the key before he retreated to his much-needed solitude. Perhaps he could have been a little kinder to the woman. Kade hadn’t seen another soul on the property, except for a few women who entered the shop up front each day. He wondered if she took care of this whole place on her own.

  He opened the refrigerator and took out the plastic bowl of tapioca pudding. Best pudding he’d ever had in his life. He grabbed a spoon from the drawer and finished the last little bit in the large container, then tossed the empty bowl in the sink, along with the past three days of dirty dishes. He would have been better served to have accepted the Amish woman’s housecleaning services included in the rental. He wondered for a moment if he should reconsider but disregarded the thought. It would require a limited amount of conversation. He began to fill the sink with soapy water.

  Thirty minutes later, he was back on the tan couch. He adjusted the volume on the TV, listened to a woman discuss a nearby animal shelter, and then he turned it off. And he sat—thinking.

  He crossed his ankles on the coffee table and thought about how successful he’d become by following in his father’s footsteps. At thirty-seven, Kade had more money than he’d ever spend in one lifetime. And, he decided, he couldn’t be more miserable.

  One thing would cheer him up, though—some more of that tapioca pudding from the Amish woman.

  In the fading twilight, Sadie braved the below-freezing temperature and pulled two logs from the stack of firewood she kept in the barn, wishing she’d remembered to do it earlier in the day. Her boots heavy in the deep snow, she edged toward the farmhouse, glancing at the cottage lit up by electricity, smoke wafting out of the chimney. Something caught her eye on her renter’s front porch. It was the empty plastic bowl that she had sent the tapioca pudding in. Why in the world would he set it on the front porch?

  She put the logs down and trudged toward the cottage, the frigid air nipping at her cheeks. She grabbed the bowl, retrieved her wood, and then headed toward the farmhouse. All she wanted to do was climb into bed and reread the letter she received from Milo two weeks ago, to take refuge in his words and combat her dwindling hope.

  Following a bath, she lit the lantern by her bed upstairs and pulled out Milo’s note.

  My Dear Sadie,

  I am counting the days until we meet. I will come to see you when the winter weather has passed. I reckon the springtime is when I will come. The sound of your voice helps me to picture you in my head. You are schee, I know. If it is God’s will, you will become my fraa and we will be together. The Lord will guide us.

  I am reminded of a song from our Sunday singings—“We Have This Moment.” The words make me think of you—“Hold tight to the sound of the music of living. Happy songs from the laughter of children at play. Hold my hand as we run through the sweet, fragrant meadows, making memories of what is today. We have this moment to hold in our hands, and to touch as it slips through our fingers like sand. Yesterday’s gone and tomorrow may never come, but we have this moment today.”

  I want to share mei moments with you, Sadie. I will write you again soon.

  In His name,

  Milo

  Sadie folded the letter and pressed it against her chest. She could only pray that Milo would be everything she longed for. While she’d grown accustomed to fending for herself, how wonderful it would be to have a man to help with chores, to hold her, to love her, to grow old with. Maybe God would even see fit to bless them with a child.

  “We Have This Moment” was one of Sadie’s favorite songs. She recalled another verse from the song—“Tender words, gentle touch, and a good time sharing, and someone who loves me and wants me to stay. Hold them near while they’re here and don’t wait for tomorrow to look back and wish for today.”

  Please God, she prayed silently, bless me with companionship as I go forth in life to serve You.

  The ground was solid beneath Sadie’s feet as she walked toward the shop, with no new snow since the heavy downfall yesterday afternoon. She wondered if the snow would keep tourists away, but it was Saturday. At least a few customers would rough out the weather. Today’s schedule called for Sadie and Katie Ann to work, since Lillian and her mother had worked the shop yesterday. But Katie Ann was down with the flu, and Sadie declined Mary Ellen’s help. There wasn’t enough going on this time of year to require two women to run the shop. Sadie knew she could handle it on her own. Besides, Mary Ellen had a family to tend to. She, on the other hand, did not.

  It was nearing eight o’clock when she lit the heaters and drew the blinds in the shop. Her day had started early that morning. She’d made another large batch of tapioca pudding, thinking her guest might have been requesting more when he left the empty container outside. It was no trouble. She also baked two loaves of bread for an elderly friend down the street, Lizzie Esh. Lizzie suffered with arthritis and had difficulty cooking these days, particularly considering the effort it took to repeatedly knead dough. She planned to run the bread to Lizzie after she closed the shop in the late afternoon.

  The container of pudding sat next to her, and she peered out of the back window toward the guesthouse. One light appeared to be on. With her winter cape, bonnet, and boots still on, she decided she’d leave Mr. Saunders’s pudding on his porch.
Surely he’d come out soon for firewood and see it before it froze.

  She was grateful for a pleasantly warmer day, approaching thirty degrees. Nearing the cottage, she saw that Mr. Saunders still had plenty of firewood stacked on the porch, which reminded her that she would need to cart some to the farmhouse for later. Then she heard the music.

  Evidently he was awake. She plodded slowly across the yard and stopped at the bottom of the steps. A woman’s voice belted loudly above an assortment of instruments. Sadie loved to sing and wondered what it would be like to sing along with actual instruments, something that would never be allowed in her district. Owning an instrument was said to bring forth unnecessary emotions.

  This is like spying, she thought, as she held her position, beginning to hum to the rhythm. Just a little longer. How could owning an instrument that produced such beautiful sounds be wrong in the eyes of God?

  Finally, she placed the plastic container with the tapioca pudding on a small table between two rockers. She turned to leave but hadn’t even made it to the steps when the cottage door swung open.

  Sadie spun around. Stunned, she faced Kade Saunders standing in the threshold. A flush rose from her neck, accompanied by a knot in her throat as she gulped back her embarrassment. The man was wearing what appeared to be pajama bottoms. He was barefoot, and he didn’t have a shirt on. She instinctively threw her hands over her eyes, gasping, but unable to move.

  “Wait right here.” Kade held his palm toward her and backed into the house.

  No problem. She couldn’t move. She widened her fingers on one hand to have a peek. He stood in the living area, pulling a white sweatshirt over his head as if sensing her embarrassment at seeing him in such a way. The flush had overtaken her face, she was quite sure. She brought her hands down and began nervously twisting the ties on her black cape. Pajama bottoms, for goodness’ sake.

  When he returned to the door, she stammered, “I . . . I brought you some tapioca pudding.”

  Kade walked toward her, still barefoot. “Thank you. That was the best tapioca pudding I’ve ever had.”

  His shoulder brushed hers as he whisked by her to retrieve it. Her feet were rooted in place when he came back her way; then he stood uncomfortably close to her, facing her. He put one hand on his hip and tucked the pudding container against his side with the other hand. “Do you want to come in?”

  “No. I do not.” She wished right away that she hadn’t sounded so shocked by his offer. He wasn’t smiling, but at least he didn’t have the irritated look on his face like he did the first day of his arrival. “Okay,” he said, then shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He turned to head back into the cottage.

  Finally, she was able to move her legs and turned to head down the steps, promising herself she would never come back to the cottage until time to deliver more groceries, which she quickly calculated wasn’t for another three days.

  “Hey,” he called out to her.

  She had only taken four or five steps into the snow when she was forced to turn around and acknowledge him. “Ya?”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Sadie.” She offered a brief smile before turning back around.

  “Hey, Sadie?”

  Again she turned around. “Ya?”

  “If you like listening to the music so much, why don’t you knock on the door and come in out of the cold next time?” he said. “You don’t have to loiter on the front porch.”

  If only the earth would open up and swallow me, she thought.

  “No, no,” she mumbled. She gave him a quick wave and began stepping backwards.

  She remembered falling. She wasn’t sure what she tripped over, but as her legs buckled beneath her, she hit her head on the icy ground.

  Sprawled out on her back, she recalled the image of Kade Saunders bolting barefoot across the snow.

  2

  'GOOD GRIEF!' KADE SPRINTED DOWN THE STEPS, THE frozen ground beneath his feet stinging his soles, a thought that quickly became secondary when he saw splatters of blood around the Amish woman’s head. Oh, man.

  He cradled his hand behind her neck and lifted her head. Not too much blood. But she was out cold. Kade lifted her into his arms in a clumsy, ridiculous way that he was sure would be uncomfortable for her if she had been conscious. His feet were numbing so much that he worried he’d fall with her in his arms. She wasn’t fully in his grasp. Her left leg hung loose, her black boot dragging across the snow. Not his most heroic moment.

  The icy steps proved challenging. He quickly gave up any hope for gracefulness as Sadie’s left calf bounced off of each step. He cringed with each cumbersome movement, his feet practically anesthetized by the slick coldness beneath them.

  The central heating from the cottage hit him while he was still on the porch and gave him the extra push to get inside. He wound around the coffee table and laid her on the couch. Kade propped a throw pillow behind her head and wondered if she’d be angry that he let her bleed on her own couch. He’d worry about that later. He wasn’t sure Amish people got angry anyway. Kade crouched beside her and gently lifted her head. He fumbled with the string on her white cap, then gently pushed it aside. Strands of red hair escaped, making it difficult for him to see the wound.

  Her blue eyes opened wide. “Ach! ” she screamed, then pushed his hand away. He was startled, but not half as spooked as she was. Then with the power of an army, she thrust her hands against his chest and pushed him to a standing position. When she stood up, a round of dialect unbeknown to Kade followed.

  I think she’s angry, Kade thought, without a clue about what she was saying.

  He stumbled backward. “Hey, hold up, lady. You had a nasty fall, and I rescued you.” If you could call it that. She probably had a pretty banged-up shin that she didn’t have before.

  She was on her feet and scurrying toward the door, trying desperately to tuck her hair beneath the white cap on her head. Kade would’ve never known her hair was so long, hidden beneath the cap on her head. Now several strands cascaded below her shoulders almost to her waist, wavy and full.

  Kade thought he saw tears in her eyes. “Wait,” he said. “You banged your head pretty good. Maybe—”

  She swung the door open, never looked back, and was gone.

  Sadie’s head throbbed, and she weaved from side to side across the snow. She made her way inside the shop, then reached up and touched a gooey mess on the back of her head. Blood.

  The recollection of Kade Saunders leaning over her in a most inappropriate way was much worse than the pain she was in. She winced as she recalled the horror and embarrassment of it all.

  She should’ve never agreed to lease to a single man from the city. He’d come to the door in long, flannel pajama breeches—with no shirt on. Most improper, indeed.

  She was surprised to see Jonas Miller standing outside her shop. What in the world was Lillian’s grandfather doing here, especially in his condition? He’d had the cancer for some time now and didn’t get out so much as Sadie knew. Plus, it was a frigid day for a ride in the buggy. Sadie’s eyes darted to Jessie. Jonas had had that old horse for as long as she’d known him.

  Lillian. Was something wrong with Lillian?

  “Jonas, what brings you out here on a day like this? Everything is all right, no?” She wiped her bloody hand on her apron.

  “Is that blood?” Jonas pushed back the rim of his straw hat, squinted his eyes, and walked over to Sadie. He lifted her hand.

  “That’s blood for sure.” He dropped her hand, stroked his beard, and scanned her from head to toe. “Where are you hurt, child?”

  “Mei head.” She pointed to a spot beneath her prayer covering, which was absorbing the slow trickle of blood. “I slipped earlier.”

  Jonas tilted her head to the side, pulled back her kapp, and looked intently at her wound, his touch causing her to flinch. “I reckon you’ll live,” he said matter-of-factly, then stepped back from her.

  That’s it? I’ll live?

&n
bsp; Lillian’s grandfather had a way with words—and people—that wasn’t reflective of most Amish men she knew. Everyone loved Jonas, but you never knew what might come out of his mouth. And knowing that to be true, her heart skipped a beat when she noticed Kade awkwardly making his way across the snow. At least he was sporting some running shoes, but didn’t the man own any boots? And he wore no jacket, only the sweatshirt he’d hastily thrown on.

  “Who’s the fancy fella comin’ across the yard like he ain’t got a lick a sense?”

  “Kade Saunders. He’s renting the cottage for three months.” Sadie felt her heart quicken as she saw Jonas eyeing him with suspicion.

  “Three months?” Jonas twisted his mouth to one side and narrowed his brows. “He rentin’ it all by himself, or he got a fraa and kinner with him?”

  “No. It’s just him.”

  They stood silently as Kade came within listening space. Please, Jonas . . . be good.

  “I wanted to make sure you were all right,” he said to Sadie. Sadie nodded and opened her mouth to speak. She supposed she should thank him for not letting her lie in the snow and freeze to death, no matter the awkwardness of the situation.

  “She’s mighty fine,” Jonas interjected. “What brings a man like you to Lancaster County for three months in this kalt wedder? You runnin’ from something?” Jonas stared the man down.

  Sadie warmly reflected that if her father was alive, he would have the same question for a man traveling alone, especially a man Kade’s age. Sadie figured him to be in his mid to late thirties.

  “No . . . I’m not running from anything. I just . . .” Kade looked bewildered by the question.

  Jonas stood a little taller. “I come by every day to check on Sadie.”

  Jonas, that is far from the truth. Sadie arched her brows and shot Jonas an inquisitive look.

  “Just so ya know,” Jonas added. He didn’t take his eyes off of Kade.