The Middlefield Family Collection

by Kathleen Fuller

  “Nah, it’s fine. Don’t want you to have to do any extra work.”

  His courtesy touched her. Again the thought entered her mind that this might just be more than a favor. Maybe it was an excuse to be with her. To break the ice that had thickened between them over the years, at least on his side.

  She tried to temper those expectations, but as usual, her feelings overruled her thoughts. As she watched him walk away, for a brief instant she imagined what it would be like if the house were theirs. If they were married, and he was going to work the farm while she took care of the house and their kinner.

  She gripped the knob on the stair rail, forcing the dreamy thought away.

  Johnny walked out the back door, intending to head to the barn. Instead he turned back and looked at the house, thinking about Katie working inside. Her face had lit up when he asked her about cooking the meal, and she didn’t even flinch when she saw the mess in the house. In fact, she seemed excited to clean it.

  But he knew that excitement came from her kind heart. It had taken everything he had not to keep staring at her as she’d walked around his kitchen. She was so lovely, with her reddish-blond hair peeking out from beneath her starched white kapp. She was willowy and graceful. He couldn’t believe he ever thought her awkward. Or annoying. And when he recalled how he’d treated her in the past, the guilt nearly drove him to go straight back in the house and tell her how much he cared for her.

  Yet his feet wouldn’t move. Apparently his body was wiser than his head, because to reveal his feelings now would be disastrous. Certainly she would accept that he didn’t have money, lived in a run-down house, and owned a barn that would likely collapse in a faint breeze. She would agree to live in poverty and scrape by while he tried to make a success of the farm. She would work hard at her job and work even harder when she came home. Because that was the kind of person she was.

  And he wanted to be the man she deserved.

  At the end of the day, Katherine returned home to the house she shared with her parents and younger sister, Bekah. She was tired, and she hadn’t seen Johnny since the morning—he’d spent all day outside working in the barn and mowing and trimming the yard until it looked perfect.

  But like the inside, the outside needed a woman’s touch. There were no flowers in the beds outlining the front of the house. There was a place in the backyard for a nice vegetable garden, but it was covered with grass, now neatly shorn.

  There wasn’t anything she could do about flowers or vegetables outside, but she could do something inside. Something that would not only surprise him but make him happy.

  She hummed as she walked over to the stove, where her mother stood cooking supper. Having skipped lunch, Katherine was starving.

  “Where have you been all day?” her mother asked.

  “Helping out a friend.” She didn’t dare tell Mamm that the friend was Johnny. Mamm knew all about Katherine’s crush, about the heartache she felt at Johnny’s rejection. If Katherine told her mamm, she’d either get a lecture or “the look.” Katherine wasn’t in the mood for either. Nothing would spoil her mood.

  “What’s for supper?”

  “Cabbage and noodles, that leftover baked chicken from last night, and the last of the canned peas.” Her mother set down the wooden spoon she used to stir the peas. “I’m glad the garden’s started. I miss the fresh vegetables.”

  “Me too.” Katherine leaned against the kitchen counter. “I was wondering, do you still have those old kitchen and living room curtains?”

  “The ones we replaced a few years ago? Ya. I haven’t had a chance to repurpose the fabric. Why?”

  “Could I have them?”

  “Sure.” Her mamm looked at her. “Does your friend need curtains?”

  “Most definitely.”

  “Then you’re welcome to the fabric.” She opened the oven, looked at the chicken bubbling in a light, creamy gravy. Heat started filling the kitchen before she shut the oven door. “Almost done.”

  After supper, Bekah went upstairs while her parents sat outside on their back porch to enjoy the fresh evening air. Katherine found the curtains, the living room ones a pale blue color resembling a robin’s egg, plus the thicker cream-colored kitchen ones. She heated up the iron on the gas stove and ironed the curtains, making sure each seam and pleat was perfectly straight. She had measured Johnny’s windows before she left, and while the living room curtains would be an inch short, anything was better than the shaggy, dusty ones he had now.

  It was past nine, and she was yawning by the time she finished. She folded the curtains carefully and put them in a large cloth tote bag she’d quilted from spare fabric when she was seven years old. Then she went upstairs and collapsed into bed.

  A few moments later her eyes flew open. She had to work tomorrow! How could she have forgotten? She would be off by three, but she still had to shop for supper, hang the curtains, and prepare the meal, all before six. She shot out of bed, turned on the lamp, and made a list of everything she needed to do, right down to the last detail. There wouldn’t be time to make her best dessert, raisin cream pie. She’d have to purchase a pie from the bakery at Mary Yoder’s and bring it to Johnny’s.

  As she turned off the light and went back to bed, she prayed for everything to go smoothly tomorrow.

  She couldn’t disappoint Johnny. She was determined not to let him down.

  CHAPTER 9

  Cora took a deep breath and slowly extricated herself from the taxi in front of Anna and Lukas Byler’s home. Four months ago, when she had first come here, she had been appalled at the simple, backward way her grandson lived with his adoptive parents.

  Her daughter, Kerry, had set those wheels in motion by rejecting the handpicked fiancé Cora had chosen for her and falling in love instead with a man who was entirely unsuitable. An impassable rift had grown between Cora and Kerry, and when Kerry and her husband died, Cora knew nothing of their death—or of the teenage son they had left behind. Sawyer had ultimately been adopted by the Amish Byler couple—a fate she could have saved him from, had she only known of his existence.

  But that was over and done with. Water under the bridge. She’d never been able to control her daughter, but she could—she would—control Sawyer’s immediate future.

  She had tried once and failed. This time she would succeed. Since he hadn’t returned to New York, she would come to him. She would use every tool in her arsenal to convince him to take up his rightful place as her heir. Every tool, save one—her diagnosis. He would not make this decision out of pity. She wouldn’t allow that.

  The sharp edges of the gravel stones on the driveway drove through the thin leather of her ballet flats. She couldn’t balance on heels anymore. Even with the simple shoes, she had to tread carefully, watching her step and making sure nothing threw her off balance. A cane was out of the question. She wouldn’t use one until absolutely necessary.

  The taxi driver had retrieved her bags and was already briskly passing her as he took her luggage to the Bylers’ front porch. He set the suitcases down and turned as she reached the bottom step. “Is there anything else I can do for you, ma’am?”

  “No. That will be all.” She stopped walking, pulled her leather wallet out of her Hermés bag, and gave him a generous tip. As he left she walked up the front steps, making sure to navigate them carefully. She bypassed the luggage and knocked on the front door. Then knocked again.

  No answer.

  It never dawned on her that no one would be home. Sawyer and Lukas were most likely at work at the carpentry shop. But where was Anna? Didn’t the woman have washing or baking or some other primitive chore to do that would keep her tied up at home?

  Cora looked around, taking in the stark white houses unadorned with anything but natural landscaping. Despite several lines of washing hanging from various houses, no one was in sight. She stilled and listened for a moment. The quiet made her ears hurt.

  She managed her way back down the stairs. Perhaps
Anna was in the backyard. She thought, not for the first time, how much simpler it would be if these people had a phone. She could have announced her arrival properly. Now she had to comb the property just to find someone.

  As she came around the back, the ground changed from rough gravel to rich, green grass. The backyard was large, with a crude, sturdy-looking wood fence surrounding it. Cora pulled her designer jacket around her body as the wind kicked up, carrying the unpleasant scent of animals and their waste with it. She would never get used to that smell. Give her city exhaust any day.

  A long wooden swing positioned under two large oak trees caught her eye. The branches extended up and out, higher and farther than any tree she’d seen in the city. The leaves were just beginning to bud.

  Weariness overcame her as the travel and the stress of figuring out what to say to Sawyer took their toll. The swing did look inviting. She’d sit for just a short while and wait for Anna to come home. It had to be soon. It wasn’t like a horse and buggy could take her far.

  Gingerly she sat down and found the swing to be more comfortable than she had imagined. Cora took in the property, the wide-open field beyond the fence, the tall trees dotting the land. This time when she breathed in, she smelled something different. The sweet smell of grass. The freshness of the air. It filled her lungs, calming her inside.

  She closed her eyes. This time the silence wasn’t as overwhelming. In fact, it seemed to be just right.

  Sweat dripped from Johnny’s brow as he swept up the last pile of dirt and straw from the barn. He put the broom back on the rack with his other tools and surveyed his work. It wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do. The Wagners would be here in less than three hours. He didn’t have much time to do anything else. Besides that, he was worn out.

  But where was Katie? He thought she would have been here by now.

  When he went inside last night, the place sparkled. He hadn’t realized how filthy it was until he saw it clean. For the first time, the house almost seemed like a home.

  Just then Katie pulled into the driveway. He let out a breath of relief and went to take the reins from her. Her cheeks were pink, and she was a little breathless, as if she’d been rushing around. All on his account.

  He would have to make this up to her somehow. In a way she would never forget.

  Several paper bags lay on the seat beside her. “Need some help with those?”

  “Nee, I’m gut.” She got out of the buggy and hurried to the other side.

  Johnny started unhitching her horse. “I’ll put him in the barn. I have one extra stall. Fresh and clean. Some oats and water, and he’ll be happy.” He stroked the calm animal’s face. “If you’re okay with that.”

  “Ya. Anything you want.”

  Johnny bit his lip. If only she knew how hearing those words affected him . . .

  She snatched up the grocery bags and her colorful quilt tote and rushed into the house. He took a deep breath and led the horse into the barn.

  A short while later he entered the kitchen. The fragrant scent of onions filled the room. Two pots bubbled on the gas stove, the blue flames burning beneath them. Katherine ran her hand across her forehead as she continued cutting the onions. Suddenly she started sniffling, and tears began streaming down her cheeks.

  “Mary Beth’s eyes always run when she cuts onions,” he said, moving closer to her. “You want some help with that? I can’t cook, but I can at least use a knife.”

  “Nee,” she said, smiling, her eyes filled with tears. “I’ve got it. You run and get your shower. Relax a little before company comes.” She nodded. “I have everything under control.”

  He stared at her for a moment, tempted to reach out and wipe the tears away from her face with his thumb. Instead he put his hands in his pockets and left before he did something that would get him into trouble.

  Johnny went upstairs to get clean clothes, then took a cold shower in the upstairs bathroom. It didn’t help relieve his tension. She was right, he needed to relax. His body was on edge, not just from the work, but from nerves—and the woman in the kitchen downstairs.

  Johnny didn’t know how long he stood there, letting the water run over his fatigued body, praying that everything would be perfect for tonight. Finally he got out of the shower, dried off, shaved, and put on fresh pants and a light blue shirt. He finger combed his long brown hair and started to leave the bathroom. Then he saw the wet towel and his dirty clothes on the floor. Quickly he picked them up and tossed them in the cabinet under the sink.

  When he exited the bathroom the most delectable smell reached him. He breathed in, closing his eyes. He identified the bread baking first, then the frying onions. She was making beefsteak and onions? His favorite.

  He walked into the kitchen and saw the sizzling meat and stewing vegetables in the pan on the stove. Sure enough, beefsteak and onions. He’d died and gone to heaven.

  “Oh, Johnny. Here.” She motioned him over to the stove. “I need you to watch the onions for a second.”

  He didn’t like the sound of that. “What if I burn them?”

  “You won’t. They’re on low heat. I just need you to stir them a couple times.” She handed him the wooden spoon. He was careful not to touch her as he took it from her hand.

  “Where are you going?”

  “It’s a surprise.” She smiled, her cheeks bright and red against the paleness of her skin. Freckles dotted the bridge of her nose and streaked across her forehead. Her grin revealed perfectly straight, even teeth, and her blue eyes were sparkling with excitement.

  She was adorable.

  He checked himself, quickly averting his gaze. Focus on the Wagners.

  “Stir!” she ordered with a light laugh. Then she grabbed that colorful bag of hers and left the room.

  He bent over, awkwardly stirring the onions while breathing in the aroma. They were nearly clear, tinged with a buttery flavor and a spice he didn’t recognize. When it came to seasoning a meal, if it wasn’t salt and pepper, he had no idea what else to use.

  The scent comingled with the yeasty bread baking in the oven. Snapped green beans sat in the other pot on the stove, covered with water and a square pat of slowly melting butter. On the counter next to the stove was a cutting board with a block of Swiss cheese ready to be sliced, a jar of pickled beets on the other side. If the Wagners weren’t impressed with this meal, there was something wrong with them.

  He gave the onions another stir, terrified he’d scorch them and ruin her hard work. When she returned, she took the spoon from him, their fingers brushing and sending a tingling sensation through him. Now he understood why Sawyer was so pie-eyed every time he was around Laura.

  “Geh into the living room and sit down. I’ll take it from here.”

  “You sure you don’t need help with anything else?”

  “I’m the cook, remember?” She smiled again and shooed him away. “Geh. Unwind. Supper will be ready by the time company gets here.”

  He nodded and went into the living room. There was something different about it, but he couldn’t put his finger on it—other than it was clean for once. He sat down on the couch and crossed his arms, sinking deep into the cushions. This was turning out better than he’d hoped. He and Katie made a good team. She’d taken on his request and handled it with an almost professional ease that impressed him.

  He thought about all the years he’d avoided her, afraid of giving her the wrong impression, especially when they were kids. Back then if he even glanced at her, she seemed to take it as a declaration of love.

  Things were different now. If only she knew how he really felt. How being around her seemed so . . . right. He smiled and closed his eyes, thinking about Katie doing her magic in the kitchen. A quick nap, and he’d ask her if she needed help again.

  Just a minute or two . . .

  “Johnny.”

  Katie’s voice sounded far away. And very sweet. It had almost a lyrical quality to it, like a songbird greeting the rising sun
. Sun? It couldn’t be morning yet.

  “Johnny.”

  He felt a push on his shoulder.

  “Company’s here. They’re pulling into the driveway.”

  His eyelids flew open. The Wagners. He shot up from the couch, ran his hand through his hair. “Do I look all right?” He stared at her; she was gazing at him with an odd expression but wasn’t saying anything. “Kati—Katherine?”

  “You look perfekt.”

  “Gut. Have to make the right impression.” He pulled back the curtains and peeked out the window. Wagner was heaving himself out of the car. He walked over to the other side, presumably to open the door for his wife.

  “Everything’s ready,” Katie said. “Just like I promised.”

  “That’s great,” he said absently. Now that the Wagners were here, his nerves had returned. He followed her into the kitchen. “I appreciate everything you’ve done.”

  She nodded, still smiling. And not moving.

  “I promise I’ll pay you back.”

  “You don’t have to pay me back anything.” She grinned wider. “I was happy to do it. I’m looking forward to meeting your company.”

  “What?” Then he looked past her shoulder at the table. Four places were set instead of three. Oh nee.

  He hadn’t thought that she would stay. Any other time he would want her to. But not tonight. How could he explain their relationship—non-relationship—to the Wagners? He was worried enough about tripping over his own tongue when he talked to them. It would be impossible to describe her role in his life. He couldn’t even explain it to himself.

  He guided Katie toward the back door when he heard a knock at the front.

  “Do you want me to get that?” she asked.

  Without thinking, he put his hand on the back of her small waist. A knot formed in his stomach. “I’m sorry. You have to geh.”