“Sorry,” Katy mumbled, picking up the scissors again. “I was—”
“Daydreaming, I know.” Aunt Rebecca tsk-tsked and plunked her fist on her hip. “Katy, the Fall Festival is September nineteenth, only three weeks away. My preselected fabric packs are always the best seller. I need at least three hundred of them ready to go.” She pursed her lips, making the lines around her mouth look like the ravines Katy had studied in geography last year.
Aunt Rebecca’s scolding voice continued. “If you worked here every day, you might have time to daydream, but since you can only come on Saturdays, there isn’t a minute to waste. Get busy!” She dropped the curtain back in place. Moments later, the sewing machine took up its whir again.
Katy’s shoulders sagged. Another reminder of how much she was needed during the week. Her hands remained busy at the monotonous task while her mind played over the past seven school days. Although she’d become familiar with the large campus—she could find her way to every class on time—she still felt like a…well, a Mennonite in a room full of non-Mennonites. Or, her thoughts sniped as she considered the behavior of some of the students, a Mennonite in a room full of heathens.
Then she scolded herself. Be nice, Katy. They aren’t all heathens. She’d learned Shelby’s father was a minister. Of a Baptist church, but a minister anyway. And a group of students, led by a girl named Jordyn and a boy named Nick, met every Wednesday morning in the home economics classroom for a Bible study. Shelby had invited Katy to join them, but since she rode the bus, she couldn’t make it in time.
The overt staring had come to an end for the most part at least, which was a relief. Katy had never cared much for people gawking at her—it always made her ears hot. But the opposite of gawking was ignoring, and she suffered a great deal of that. Her hands slowed in stacking the cut pieces of calico. What made her invisible to people outside of Schellberg? Was it her white mesh cap and homemade caped dress, or something deeper? Something beneath the surface that screamed weird?
Suddenly a memory flashed through her mind. She’d been very young. Maybe four. Tall enough to reach a cup and the water spigot if she used her little red stool, but not yet school age. She remembered creeping downstairs after bedtime to get a drink of water, and mumbled voices from the front room pulled her in that direction. Although she knew children weren’t supposed to intrude on adults’ conversations, she couldn’t stop herself from hiding behind the doorframe and listening. Her little-girl heart had nearly broken at Dad’s anguished tone as he talked to Gramma Ruthie.
“When will they stop it, Mom? They either stare at me or act like I’m not there. They make me feel like an outsider in my own community.”
Gramma Ruthie’s soothing voice had responded as tenderly as if she were talking to little Katy. “They don’t know what to say to you, Son. They feel sorry and confused, so they look past you to avoid their own feelings. It will stop when the newness wears off.”
Katy had tiptoed away, wondering who had made her dad feel so terrible. Not until years later did she understand he was complaining about the community’s response to her mother’s abandonment. Gramma Ruthie had been right—over time, people stopped whispering. Then Katy gave a jolt. People had stopped until she asked permission to attend high school. She’d started the whispers again.
Someone pulled the curtain aside, and Katy quickly snatched up the pile of neatly cut fabric pieces. “I’m sorry, Aunt Rebecca. I was just getting ready to—”
But instead of Aunt Rebecca’s disapproving face peering through the doorway, Gramma Ruthie’s bright eyes sparkled at Katy. “Well, Katy-girl, I see you’ve got quite a stack cut. Would you like me to help you fold and package them?”
Katy didn’t need help—she knew how to fold the quarters into neat squares and layer them to show a thumbnail view of each fabric. But Gramma Ruthie would visit with her while they worked, making the time fly. “Yes, please!”
The pair settled on tall stools on opposite sides of the worktable and began sorting the fabric pieces into pleasing combinations. “So…tell me about school.”
Katy grinned. Gramma Ruthie was old—almost seventy—but sometimes she acted like a young girl. Of all the people in Schellberg, excluding Dad of course, Katy loved Gramma Ruthie the most. If she couldn’t have a mother, at least she had her gramma. But then her smile faded.
“Gramma, am I hurting Dad by going to school?”
“Hurting your dad? Why do you ask that?” Gramma’s wrinkled hands paused and she gave Katy her full attention.
“I’m afraid—” Katy glanced toward the curtained doorway. Would Aunt Rebecca listen and criticize? She dropped her voice to a whisper. “I know he works hard and could use my help. And I know he worries I’m going to get pulled away, like my mom was. Should I just stay home and not go to school?”
Katy’s chest ached as she waited for Gramma Ruthie’s reply. She respected her grandmother so much—if Gramma said Katy should stay home, she would do it, even if it meant her heart would ache for the rest of her life.
“Tsk, Katy…” Only Gramma Ruthie could tsk without making it sound like she was scolding. “Yes, your dad could use your help. But he could also hire help. What’s important is God’s will for you—school, or working with your dad.” She pointed her arthritic-bent finger at Katy. “In all of your life, Katy-girl, there will be doors opening. Some doors are happenstance—just a chance opportunity that flies in without notice—and other doors are Goddoors. You have to learn to recognize the difference and walk through the God-doors. Because if we resist a Goddoor, we lose out on His blessing.”
“But how can you know which is which?” Katy had been so certain going to school was a God-door. The deacons had talked for two weeks before giving her permission. No one else in her community had ever asked to go beyond ninth grade. Surely the idea had been God whispering to her heart rather than happenstance. But since she’d walked through the door, things had become complicated.
“You’ll know the same way you know anything…from the peace in your heart.” Gramma slid a stack of folded squares into a plastic bag and stapled it shut. “You know Proverbs sixteen verse seven. ‘When a man’s ways please the Lord, he—’”
“‘…maketh even his enemies to be at peace with him.’” Katy finished the Scripture with a sigh. “I know the verse, Gramma Ruthie, but does that mean if some people aren’t at peace, then the person hasn’t followed the Lord’s ways?” She could count at least a half dozen people who weren’t at peace with her attending school…including herself.
For a moment Gramma Ruthie peered directly into Katy’s eyes, her face pinched into a thoughtful frown. Finally she blew out a little breath and waved her hand. “You ask hard questions, Katy.” She chuckled. “But then, you always have. That’s what makes me think this idea of going to school is right for you—I’ve never seen a more inquisitive mind.”
Inquisitive…Katy liked the sound of that word better than the one Aunt Rebecca had used in the past: snoopy.
“As long as you can add knowledge to your head without affecting what’s in your heart—without losing your faith—I don’t see anything wrong with what you’re doing. But it isn’t for me to say. You are going to have to pray hard and figure it out for yourself.”
Katy groaned. “Why can’t it be easy?”
Gramma Ruthie laughed, shaking her head. Her black ribbons swayed beneath her softly sagging chin. “Ah, Katy-girl, anything worth having isn’t easy. Would you like one more piece of advice from a busybody old lady?”
Katy grinned. Gramma Ruthie wasn’t a busybody. She leaned forward eagerly.
“Words from God Himself: ‘Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee.’” Gramma Ruthie gave a solemn nod. “You think first about pleasing God, Katy-girl, and everything else will fall into place…for you, and for your dad. Now,” she said as she reached for another square of fabric, “let’s get these bags stuffed so we can walk next door and get a sandwic
h from the café. We might even bring one back for Rebecca!”
Chapter Five
Katy waved to the little kids as the big yellow bus pulled away from the high school. Their cheerful farewells rang in her head, making her smile. The bus ride had been much more pleasant since she’d befriended the younger students. She’d used a simple ploy—bringing along a loop of yarn and twisting it through her fingers to create Jacob’s ladder. The trick had intrigued the kids on the bus, just like it had done with her little cousins.
When she’d pulled out a variety of loops from her backpack and showed the kids how to make their own Jacob’s ladders, she’d instantly won their attention and affection. Only the junior high-age boys rebuffed her, but she didn’t mind. They sat way in the back and left the others alone.
She headed toward the main building, skirting groups of loitering students. No one even glanced her way as she passed the clusters of laughing, jabbering kids. She stifled a sigh. If only she could win the affection of her peers as easily as the little kids on the bus. But a Jacob’s ladder made of string wouldn’t impress high school kids.
Since students weren’t supposed to enter the building before the opening bell, Katy leaned against one of the tall windows that flanked the double doors and gazed across the yard at the others. At the Schellberg school, all of the kids from littlest to biggest mingled as a single group. It was almost like a family gathering every day.
But at Salina High North, distinct groups formed. After two weeks of attending school, Katy could easily identify many of them: the athletes—or “the jocks,” the debate squad, the popular crowd, the partiers, and the nerds. At lunch the second day of school, a girl named Jewel had suggested Katy go sit with the nerds. “You’d fit right in with your weird fashion style,” she’d said. Shelby had immediately hushed her, which made Katy feel a little better, but the comment still stung. Although the word “nerd” had been a new one, Katy knew Jewel hadn’t meant it as a compliment.
“Hi, Kathleen.” Shelby bounded across the concrete courtyard, a big smile on her face. Shelby was always smiling even though sometimes her upper lip got caught in her braces. She’d just laugh and unhook it, then smash a ball of wax onto the wires to keep it from happening again. “You found the best place to stand—out of the sun. Mind if I join you?”
“No.” Katy scooted her backpack closer to her legs to give Shelby more room. She hadn’t expected the girl to continue talking to her after the first two days, when she’d been assigned to escort Katy around the school. But to Katy’s delight, Shelby continued to seek her out. Someone at this school realized she was real.
Shelby parked her wheeled backpack next to Katy’s. “Did you get all of those sentences finished for English?” Katy asked. Shelby shook her head, the shorter layers of streaky blonde hair dancing around her cheeks. “I hate all this diagramming. I’ll be glad when we move past it.”
Katy decided it might be best to keep her enjoyment in diagramming secret. No sense in making herself even more of a nerd. “I finished my homework early so I could work on a new dress.” Aunt Rebecca had let her choose fabric as payment for her long hours of packaging fabric kits. She’d chosen a deep lilac with tiny white and yellow flowers.
Shelby’s gaze flicked from Katy’s caped bodice to the hem of her skirt that ended two inches below her knees. “You make your own clothes?”
Katy nodded, uncertain by Shelby’s tone whether she was impressed or amused.
“Wow, that’s pretty cool.” Shelby flashed another silver smile. “I made a pillowcase one time, but it came out all crooked. I never used it.” She laughed. “I could never make a whole dress.”
“I could show you.” Now where had that offer come from?
Shelby laughed again. “Thanks, Kathleen, but I better pass. I’d probably mess up your machine big time.” She propped her shoulder against the window. “Can I ask you a question?”
Katy gave a slow shrug. “Sure.”
“Do you only have one pattern? I’ve noticed all your dresses are the same, except for the colors. I’m not trying to be rude—I’m just curious.” She glanced again at Katy’s dress. “Is there, like, some rule in your church that you have to use this pattern?”
“I don’t know that it’s a rule…” Katy bit on her lower lip for a moment, forming her answer. “This style is modest. It conceals a woman’s…” Unconsciously, her gaze whisked to Shelby’s chest and up again. Her ears went hot. “Her…”
“Attributes?” Shelby contributed with a grin.
Katy sagged with relief. “Yes. That.” She looked across the grounds at the variety of skin-tight tops, low-cut blouses, and printed phrases that enticed one’s eyes to a girl’s attributes. She turned back to Shelby and finished seriously, “We try not to encourage men to look lustfully at us, which would be causing them to sin.”
Shelby nodded thoughtfully. “Makes sense.” She shifted to plant her back on the large window pane. “I gotta tell you, Kathleen, I kind of envy you. On being able to sew, I mean. My mom has this quilt hanging in the family room. Her grandmother made it. Even when I was a little kid, I’d stand and stare at all the squares and triangles that form the pattern and wish I could make something like that.” A tinkling laugh spilled from Shelby’s lips. “But after the whole pillowcase fiasco, there’s no way I’d try to sew a quilt.”
“You could start with a small one.” Katy thought about the kits in Aunt Rebecca’s shop. “Maybe a little nine-patch wall hanging. It’s all straight seams, so it would be a good starting project.”
Shelby waved her hand, as if shooing away Katy’s suggestion. “Thanks but no thanks. I think I’ll leave the sewing to you.” She tipped her head. “Did you have home ec at your old school?”
“Home ec?” Katy crunched her face.
“Yeah, home economics—like, learning to cook and sew and all that stuff to keep a house running.”
“Oh!” Katy laughed. “No, in Schellberg, you learn home ec at home, from your parents.”
“So your mom taught you to sew?”
Katy’s ears heated up. She licked her lips. “No. She’s dead.” She hadn’t lied—her mother was dead, killed in a car accident four years after leaving her and Dad. But she wouldn’t explain all that to Shelby.
Shelby straightened from the window, her eyes wide. “Oh, Kathleen, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” She touched Katy’s arm. “That must be rough.”
Katy hadn’t expected such kindness. No one in Schellberg ever acknowledged Katy’s loss. If her mother’s name was mentioned, it was always a sad or disapproving comment about her decision to run away. She swallowed. “Sometimes. But I have my gramma, and she’s a great seamstress. She taught me to sew. She could teach you too.”
Shelby released a soft snort. “I don’t know about that…”
Something drifted through Katy’s mind, and before she could stop it, the thought tumbled out. “On September nineteen, our town is having the annual Fall Festival. Gramma Ruthie will be at my aunt’s fabric store, demonstrating quilting techniques for visitors. Maybe you could come and watch, and my gramma could help you pick out an easy quilt kit to get started. The festival’s a lot of fun. Corn shucking, carriage rides, homemade apple cider and root beer…” Even worse words followed, encouraged—no doubt—by Shelby’s sincere sympathy. “If you wanted, you could spend Friday night at my house and go with my dad and me on Saturday.”
Now she’d done it! She bit down on the end of her tongue to keep anything else from flying out of her mouth. What would Dad say when he found out she’d invited a girl from high school to spend the night? She’d often had Annika over, but Annika was Mennonite. Shelby was Baptist. If Dad had a hard time talking to Annika, he’d be stricken mute in Shelby’s presence! She decided to retract the invitation quick before she got herself in trouble.
“Shelby, I—”
The opening bell blared, covering Katy’s words. Shelby pulled up the handle on her backpack and gestured Katy toward the
doors. They trotted to keep ahead of the throng pressing behind them. Shelby hung onto Katy’s elbow. “Thanks for inviting me to the festival, Kathleen. I’ve seen it advertised in the paper, but I’ve never gone. I’ll check with my parents tonight and see what they think. Can I answer you tomorrow?”
Katy nodded and walked into class. She slipped onto her tall stool in the biology lab, her pulse racing faster than a horse galloping across the pasture in early spring. What had she done? She knew she was supposed to ask permission to have guests. And she’d not only given an invitation without asking first, she’d invited someone from outside of her fellowship to stay at her house! She’d have to find a good way to confess to Dad what she’d done.
Her hands shook as she removed her biology book from her backpack. The teacher began his instruction, but Katy couldn’t concentrate. Maybe Baptists didn’t let their kids go to a Mennonite’s farm. Maybe Shelby’s parents would say no. Hope whispered around the edges of her heart. Her pulse slowed a bit.
No sense in talking to Dad unless Shelby said yes. She’d just wait until tomorrow.
“Kathleen, can we join you?”
Katy looked up from her lunch. Shelby and three of her friends—Cora, Trisha, and Bridget—stood at the end of the table with lunch trays in their hands. Shelby hadn’t been in any of their morning classes, and Katy had wondered if she was sick. Although she was glad Shelby was all right, her heart started to pound as she remembered yesterday’s impulsive invitation. It might be best to avoid Shelby until she forgot Katy had asked her to spend the night. But several chairs separated Katy from those eating at the other end of the long table. She’d look like a snob if she told the girls no. Plus, having Shelby and her friends around would distract her from Jewel, who had been making fun of Katy since she sat down.
Forcing a nod, she said, “Sure.”
Shelby took the seat next to Katy and the others lined up across from her. “See anything different?” She offered a huge smile.
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