The Middlefield Family Collection

by Kathleen Fuller

  Guilt nearly crushed him. He couldn’t dispute Frau Yoder and had little to say in his own defense. “I’ve made some mistakes in the past. Big ones.”

  Frau Yoder leaned forward, her eyes sparking with anger. “Yes, you have. Katherine is moving on.”

  “I want to make things up to her—”

  “It’s too late for that.” She stepped away. “She doesn’t need you. At one time she thought she did. Not anymore.”

  A lump lodged in his throat. He nodded. “Okay.” His voice sounded as thick as syrup, the single word clogging his throat. He’d leave for now. But he wouldn’t give up. He respected Frau Yoder, yet he wanted to hear Katherine’s side. Only then would he accept that his indecision and stupidity had cost him everything.

  But one more thing needed to be said. “Katherine doesn’t remember.”

  Her mother paused at the door of the room. “Remember what?”

  “What happened before she fainted.”

  Frau Yoder spun around. “Did she hit her head when she fell?”

  Johnny shook his head. “Not that I could see. I’m sure the doctor’s checked for a concussion, though.”

  “What else did she say?”

  “Not much.” He paused. “We didn’t get much of a chance to talk.”

  “Keep it that way.” She turned around and walked back into Katherine’s room. Johnny winced as the door clicked shut.

  “I’m glad you could join us for supper.”

  Cora looked at the older woman across the table from her. “Thank you for the invitation.” But she didn’t say it with much enthusiasm. She had only accepted because Sawyer insisted that they go. They had talked again, arriving—as usual—at an impasse. At least inviting her to supper with some of his friends was a little progress.

  But she didn’t feel well tonight. Fatigue consumed her, and the unsteadiness was the worst it had been. She walked slower to compensate, ignoring Sawyer’s quizzical looks as he helped her in and out of the buggy. The ride had jolted her bones, and with each car that whizzed past the buggy, her apprehension grew. She was a bundle of nerves by the time they arrived at the Ottos’.

  Now she wished she were back at the Bylers’. Or preferably home, in her own penthouse surrounded by her own comforts, with her grandson at her side.

  But apparently that was too much to ask.

  She looked around the table, where serving dishes were piled high with enough food to feed an army. None of it appealed. All she wanted was tea and toast. Possibly just the tea. Yet it would be rude to refuse the food, and she wouldn’t toss etiquette to the side. She did take the smallest of portions, however.

  Emma placed the last plate of food, some kind of messy casserole-looking thing, on the table. Cora glanced at Sawyer, who looked at the food appreciatively. “Looks delicious, Emma.”

  “Danki, Sawyer. I enjoyed making the meal.”

  Cora frowned. From the size of the woman’s plump hips, Cora could see that she enjoyed eating it too.

  Her gaze traveled to Emma’s husband, Adam. He was handsome, but not as winsome as her grandson, of course. Part of it had to do with the ridiculous bowl-shaped haircut he wore, plus the beard with no mustache. What a strange sense of style these people had!

  But his appearance wasn’t what she noticed the most. She saw how his gaze followed his wife as she moved around the kitchen, preparing and serving the food. His eyes were filled with love.

  It was the same kind of expression she’d seen in Sawyer’s eyes when he looked at Laura.

  She held in a sigh. It wasn’t enough that Sawyer was bent on joining the church, whatever that meant. He was also determined to settle down, marry a country girl, and have a passel of kids. And at such a young age. What a waste of potential.

  Emma finally sat down at the opposite end of the table from her husband. Sawyer sat across from an empty chair, which she assumed had been Laura’s, while Cora sat on the left side of Sawyer and across from Leona. It all seemed so quaint, so Norman Rockwell.

  She despised quaintness and had always thought Rockwell was a hack.

  Everyone bowed their heads. Cora followed suit. The silent prayer. Praying to a silent God. Or a nonexistent one.

  Her own parents were never religious, and she had gone to church only a handful of times in her life, mostly for weddings and the occasional Christmas service. She had gotten along just fine without God. Her business had thrived without any spiritual help.

  She couldn’t say the same for the rest of her life. But that didn’t mean she needed God.

  “Cora?”

  She looked up at the sound of Leona’s voice. She hadn’t even noticed the prayer was over. Adam was already passing around bowls of food. When a big bowl of purple beet salad was presented to Cora, she almost blanched.

  “Would you like some tea?” Leona took the bowl of beets from her. “I have a special blend I think you’ll enjoy.”

  Tea sounded wonderful, but Cora was wary. Who knew what these people put into their beverages? “I can’t imagine what would make it so special.”

  “Grandmother—” Sawyer gave her a warning look.

  “It’s all right, Sawyer.” Leona smiled. “Nothing wrong with being curious. It’s just a mix of black tea with chamomile, rosemary, and lemongrass.”

  Nothing she hadn’t heard of before. “A cup of tea would be lovely, thank you.” She glanced at Sawyer, who seemed relieved by her conciliatory tone.

  “I’ll get it for you.” Emma jumped up from the table and went to the cabinet nearest the sink. The girl never seemed to sit still.

  While Emma prepared the tea, Leona looked at Cora. “How long do you plan to stay in Middlefield?”

  “As long as it takes,” she muttered.

  “Pardon me?”

  “My plans are open.” Cora looked around the table for something that appeared appetizing, but saw very little. She decided on a piece of bread, even though it was white. Didn’t these people know how bad white flour was? As she watched Adam smother his thick slice of meat loaf with gravy, she couldn’t figure out how he stayed so thin. Being married to Emma would probably change that.

  “Here you geh,” Emma said as she set the steaming hot tea in front of her.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” She smiled, and Cora was struck by how pretty her face was, despite the chubby cheeks and makeup-free complexion. Her countenance almost made up for her pear-shaped body.

  She took a sip of the tea. It was surprisingly good. But her hands started shaking as she held the teacup, and she quickly set it down with a loud thump.

  “Is there something wrong with the tea?” Emma frowned, looking worried.

  “Just a little hot.” She picked up her slice of bread and took a bite. Everyone else continued to eat, except for Leona.

  Cora met the older woman’s gaze. She had noticed the shaking.

  Leona noticed everything, Cora suspected. Paid attention, without drawing attention to herself. Not much got past this woman.

  Those were traits Cora could respect.

  Emma turned to Sawyer. “When is Laura returning?”

  “Week after next. I got a letter in the mail today.” He grinned.

  “That’s wonderful.” Emma cut into a large slice of meat loaf.

  “Hopefully her parents will come with her. You don’t mind putting them up?”

  “Of course not,” Adam said. “We have the room, and Laura is familye. I’ll be glad to meet them.”

  “So will I.” Sawyer grinned again. “Hopefully I’ll get the stamp of approval from my future in-laws.”

  A knot twisted in Cora’s stomach. Apparently her grandson cared more about two people he had never met and wasn’t related to than about his own grandmother. She tightened her grip on the bread.

  The conversation turned to boring topics such as gardening and the dog kennel outside. She barely listened and picked at her food while everyone else finished the meal. She took a few more sips of the
tea. It really was delicious and did have a bit of a calming effect on her nerves. But she was eager to get back to the Bylers’ and lie down.

  “Everyone ready for dessert?” Emma grinned. “Apple pie and ice cream!”

  Of course. A nice sorbet or even fresh fruit was out of the question. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

  After dessert, which Cora declined, Emma started on the dishes while Sawyer and Adam went outside. “Why don’t we geh into the living room?” Leona suggested. “It’s more comfortable in there.”

  Cora looked around for Sawyer just as the door shut behind him.

  He seemed to have forgotten she was there.

  CHAPTER 19

  “I’ll just go find Sawyer,” Cora said. “Surely he’s ready to go home.”

  Leona rested her gnarled hand on her cane. “He’ll come in when it’s time.” She stood leaning on the wooden cane. Her shoulders were hunched, as if she couldn’t stand up straight. Yet there was a strength to her presence, one that belied her physical weakness.

  Cora couldn’t help but stare at the cane. Simple, made of glossy wood, its curved handle worn in places where Leona had touched it over the years. It wouldn’t be long before she herself would have to use one. Would she look as dignified as Leona?

  Reluctantly she followed Leona into the living room, which like everything else in the house was modest, plain, and—well, boring. Leona gestured to the ancient-looking sofa.

  With weary steps Cora made her way across the room and sat down on the sofa. It was surprisingly comfortable. Leona lowered herself into the wooden rocking chair across from her. She clutched her cane, but not for support. It was as if the piece of wood was an old friend, a companion instead of a crutch. She smiled, her eyes shining bright in the yellow light of the gas lamp. “I hope you had a gut time tonight, Cora.”

  Cora nodded. The word passable came to mind, but she maintained her silence. She had done what was necessary to placate her grandson, but that was all. Feeling a little chilled, she started to cross her arms, noticed her shaking hands, and folded them tightly in her lap.

  Leona’s gaze dropped to Cora’s hands. “How was the tea?”

  “Soothing,” Cora admitted.

  “You seem tired.”

  “Perhaps.” Cora lifted her chin and straightened her shoulders. “It is getting late, after all.”

  “Ya. Seven thirty is pretty late.”

  Was that all? Cora tried to stifle a sigh. She used to be a night owl, staying up until the wee hours of the morning. New York never slept, and when she was younger, neither did she.

  “This must be hard on you.” Leona shifted in her chair. Her plain, wire-rimmed glasses slid an inch down her nose, but she didn’t move them. “And strange at the same time.”

  “Definitely strange.” Cora looked at Leona. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound rude.”

  “You didn’t. You sound honest.” She leaned forward. “I appreciate honesty.”

  Guilt forced Cora to look away. She hadn’t been completely honest with Sawyer. She still wasn’t.

  “Is there something wrong?”

  Cora returned her gaze to Leona. Was she that transparent? Already losing her ability to hide her emotions? “Everything is fine.”

  Leona tapped her cane on the floor. “So much for honesty.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Cora moved to stand up. Leona held up her hand, stopping her.

  “You’re carrying a heavy burden, Cora. I suspect it’s not just about Sawyer.”

  What was this woman, psychic? Then she noticed Leona’s gaze on Cora’s hands.

  “My mother taught me the recipe for the tea.” Leona finally pushed up her glasses. “She had all sorts of recipes for all sorts of ailments. I grew up watching her share her knowledge with others. She had a healing touch, not just with herbs, but with her presence. She was constantly in prayer, always asking God for help before she went to see someone who was ill.”

  “This is fascinating, really.” Cora moved to stand up again. But as she reached her feet, she started to sway. And Leona didn’t miss a move.

  She didn’t try to stop Cora either. As she left the room, Leona said, “I will be praying for you, Cora.”

  Cora wanted to tell the woman to keep her prayers to herself, that she didn’t need them. But she did need Sawyer. She went into the kitchen where Emma was tidying up the last of the dishes.

  “Where is my grandson?”

  “He’s still outside with Adam.”

  Fatigue and discomfort forced her to dispense with the pleasantries. “Please get him for me. Inform him I’m ready to leave.”

  “Okay.”

  Cora could see the normal sparkle in Emma’s brown eyes dim. She’d hurt the young woman’s feelings. But she didn’t really care. When Emma left to go outside, Cora sank into the nearest chair. She rested her head in her hands. Things would be so much easier if she felt better. Instead, everything was a battle—and she wasn’t sure she would win this time.

  Laura finished washing the last of the cookie sheets and dried them with a damp towel. She and her mother and father had worked late tonight filling a special order of monster cookies for an English church social. It was nearly eight, and she was weary. But more than that, she was tired of the strife between her and her mamm.

  Since that first night on the back deck, her mother had said little to her. For the past few days she helped out in the bakery, hoping they could talk the way they used to when they baked high-rising loaves of bread, tender, creamy whoopee pies, and flaky pies with whatever local fruit was in season. But her mother had erected a wall of bitterness around herself, and Laura didn’t know how to scale it. She had only a few more days before she returned to Middlefield. She didn’t want to leave things like this between them.

  When she put the last cookie sheet away, her father turned to them. “That’s enough for the night,” he said, his hands on his lower back, stretching. Gray threaded through his beard and thick brown hair, and a light dusting of flour coated his glasses.

  “Ya,” Laura said, looking at her mother. “I think it’s enough.”

  Her father stilled. He glanced from Laura to Mamm and shook his head. “Don’t you think it’s time you two set things to rights?”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” Mamm said.

  “Ya, you do, Ella.” He walked over to Laura. “Our dochder is home, and you’ve been silent toward her almost from the moment she got here. Come to think of it, you’ve been quiet all around.” He peered at her. “Normally you’re a chatterbox.”

  Laura’s lips twitched into a smile, which disappeared at her mother’s harsh look. “Matthew, if you knew what Laura was wantin’ to do, you’d be upset too.”

  “Then why don’t you tell me?” When neither of them spoke, he said, “You’re gonna make me guess?”

  Laura and her mother both spoke at once.

  “She’s making another mistake, Matthew—”

  “I love him, Daed. Mamm’s not giving him a chance—”

  “Is it too much to ask that she take a little time to think about what she’s doing?”

  “He loves me. And he’s not like Mark!”

  Laura’s mother grew silent. Both parents looked at Laura. “Mamm, I know you’re worried. But if you would come back to Middlefield with me, you’ll see I’m not making a mistake.”

  Her mother shook her head. “Absolutely not. Who will run the bakery?”

  “I’m standing right here, Ella,” her father said. “It’s not like I haven’t run the bakery by myself before. Plus, I can call on mei bruder Edward if I need an extra pair of hands.”

  “I can’t leave you with all that work.”

  “Can’t?” He took a step toward her. “Or won’t?”

  Laura watched as her parents gazed at each other, engaging in a silent communication born of thirty years of marriage. Her mother’s shoulders drooped. “You’re right,” she said to Daed. “You can handle things here.”
>
  “Laura is right too. Give the bu a chance.” He lowered his voice. “And give Laura a chance as well.”

  Laura’s throat tightened. She’d been so wrapped up in her disappointment that her mother hadn’t accepted her marriage plans that she failed to see her Mamm’s point of view. “I know it’s hard to trust me.”

  Her mother stepped away from her father. “Laura, lieb. It’s not that we don’t trust you.” She went to Laura and touched her face, pausing as her fingertips pressed lightly against her thin scars. “We don’t want you hurt again.”

  “Sawyer would never hurt me.”

  “You believe that, but—”

  “Now it’s time for you to find out for yourself, Ella.” Daed moved to stand next to them. “Then you can report back to me. In never-ending detail. Like you always do.”

  Her mother batted him on the arm. Laura grinned.

  Finally they were acting like the familye she remembered.

  “Katherine, I’ve gone over your chart and the tests we ran on your brain.” The doctor flipped her chart shut and stood at the end of her bed, peering down at her. “I think I know the reason for your memory loss.”

  She gripped her mother’s hand. It was early the next morning, the day after Johnny’s visit. She still had trouble believing he’d stopped by, and when he told her he hoped she’d feel better, he seemed to really mean it. That made almost as much sense to her as the memory loss.

  “In some patients with meningitis, there is a disruption in the blood flow across the blood-brain barrier.”

  Her mother drew a sharp breath. “That sounds dangerous.”

  “It can be, if the disruption is severe. In Katherine’s case, we feel it wasn’t. But that disruption caused a bit of short-term memory loss.”

  “Which is why I can’t remember anything from the past few weeks,” Katherine said.

  “Exactly.”

  “Will she get her memory back?”

  The doctor hugged the folder to his chest. “Possibly. But there’s no guarantee.” He looked at Katherine. “Since the loss is short-term, it won’t affect you too much.”