Arms of Mercy

by Ruth Reid

  Moments like this made Catherine wish she had her own place, then maybe she wouldn’t feel as if she were imposing. Not long ago George had talked about converting one of the smaller sheds on the property to a daudi haus, only it wouldn’t be fixed up for a grandparent but would become her home. Although she’d been grateful her brother offered to give up one of his equipment sheds, at the time she believed she wouldn’t be living with them long since she and Zach had been courting seriously for more than a year. Refusing to revisit the latest turn of events, she pushed her chair away from the table, stood, and then collected the dirty dishes.

  “Catherine, I’d like to have a word with you.” George motioned to her vacated chair. “Please sit down.”

  “Okay.” She glimpsed Gwen shuttling the children out of the kitchen. No doubt Elijah’s speech the other day had something to do with this meeting. Catherine set the stack of plates back on the table and returned to her chair. Her brother, ten years older, had taken on the fatherly role in her life at an early age, and over the past few years, he’d begun to look like Daed, often sharing the same deadpan expression.

  She cleared her throat. “What would you like to talk about, George?”

  “You know how fast gossip spreads in our district and the problems it tends to create.”

  She held up her palm to stop him. “Before you continue I just want to say that I”—she swallowed hard—“I don’t know what came over me to geh to Alice. I knew she would tell the bishop . . . but seeing Elijah again had brought back so many hurtful memories, and he kept seeking me out. I didn’t know his fraa had passed away.”

  George picked up his mug, brought it to his mouth, but paused. “I think Bishop Zook was the only person he’d told.”

  “I acted impulsively.” She shrugged. “I was wrong. I’ll speak with him and apologize.”

  George drained his coffee mug, then stood and went to the sink where he filled it with tap water. He gazed out the window a long moment before turning to face her. “The reason I asked to speak with you was to find out if it’s true that you proposed to Zach Lantz. Is it?”

  The muscles tightened in Catherine’s neck and shoulders, sending a dull, pulsating throb to her head. Not another headache. It had taken hours for the last one to subside.

  “Catherine?”

  “Jah, it’s true—I acted impulsively about that too.” Heaviness filled her chest as Zach’s betrayal sank in. Why did he tell anyone, especially her brother?

  George sighed. “That impulsiveness is exactly what worried Zach. You haven’t been acting yourself lately. Is there something else going on?”

  Besides Zach’s rejection, The Amish Table closing . . . Elijah? “I, ah . . . I need a change.” She lowered her gaze to the breakfast crumbs on the floor.

  “What do you mean by change? What sort of change are you looking to make?”

  “Our cousin Dawn has invited me to kumm to Florida. She needs help in her bakery.”

  “You’ve never gone that far before.”

  “George, I’m twenty-nine years old. And I prayed about the trip. The change will do me gut.”

  He frowned. “Have you told Gwen?”

  “I planned on telling her after breakfast.” She leaned back in her chair to look into the sitting room. “I don’t see her. Should I geh get—”

  He shook his head. “I didn’t want little ears listening to our conversation. Leah is at an impressionable age, and I certainly don’t want her getting it in her head that it’s okay to propose to a man.”

  “Then mei leaving will be gut for everyone.” Catherine picked up the stack of plates, walked over to the sink, and lowered them into the basin. More dirty dishes waited to be picked up from the table, but she couldn’t face the disappointment she would see in his eyes. Instead she watched a pair of cardinals pecking at seed in the bird feeder outside the window. Such beautiful creatures with their bright red wings and black masked faces, a stark contrast to the snowy backdrop. It always amazed her how birds knew instinctively when to fly south, and how some, like cardinals, didn’t migrate at all.

  Snowbirds . . . Catherine smiled, recalling her cousin’s description of Florida-bound northerners. Going to Florida to work wasn’t technically a vacation, but who knew? Perhaps this snowbird would not migrate home at the end of the season. Jah, a one-way ticket was all she needed.

  After her purchase, Catherine thanked the woman at the ticket booth, then proceeded across the small lobby while at the same time double-checking the departure date and time. The disclaimers at the bottom of the ticket caught her attention. Not that she planned to change her mind about going to Florida before Thursday, but she’d never taken a bus before and wanted to be prepared.

  Her eyes strained reading the small print. Nontransferable, nonexchangeable. Budget Bus has the right to cancel without prior written notification in accordance with—

  Catherine’s arm brushed against something sturdy, and when she looked up, Elijah greeted her with a wide smile. The ticket fluttered from her hand to the floor, and he squatted down to retrieve it.

  “I’m beginning to think there’s something magnetic between us.” He looked the ticket over as he stood. “We seem to be drawn to each other.”

  Ignoring his comment, she snatched the ticket from his hand. “I’ll take that, danki.”

  “Who’s going to Florida?”

  “You looked at mei ticket?”

  “Sorry.” He opened his mouth as if to say more but didn’t utter more than a few undecipherable syllables before clamping his mouth closed, his lips forming a tight line.

  “I’m going to visit mei cousin in Sarasota.” Not that it’s any of your business. Catherine jammed the ticket inside her handbag. “What are you doing here anyway?”

  “I told you I wasn’t planning to stay long.”

  “You’re leaving before your mammi’s birthday celebration? I thought that’s why you came back.”

  He scratched his bearded jaw. “Things change.”

  “Jah, things change,” she echoed absentmindedly. “I’m sorry about your fraa.” About involving the bishop . . .

  “I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I hope you believe me.”

  She nodded. “I got that message—along with the entire congregation,” she mumbled under her breath. Heat infused her face, recalling how everyone had shifted their attention to her.

  “Making that speech wasn’t exactly mei idea, but I am glad you know the truth nau.”

  Having been put in her place and not especially proud of her actions, she averted her gaze to the floor. “Elijah, I was the one who—”

  “Ratted me out?”

  Catherine looked up to find him grinning. “You knew it was me?”

  He nodded. “I tried to find you afterward, but you had gone home.”

  “I wasn’t feeling well.”

  “And here I thought you were just avoiding me.”

  Catherine smiled. She liked that he could joke with her again, especially after seeing how choked up he’d been on Sunday when telling everyone about his late wife. Questions still lingered as to why he promised to love Catherine forever yet married someone else, but she resisted the temptation to unearth his motives. The relationship they’d shared was buried long ago, and while digging it up could answer some questions, the pain of unearthing the truth might be more than she could endure at the moment.

  He glanced toward the ticket booth. “I see there’s no line. I should probably go purchase mei ticket. It was nice to see you again, Cat.”

  “You too.” She took a few steps and turned. “Elijah?”

  He spun to face her. “Jah.”

  “Couldn’t you postpone your trip a little longer? You shouldn’t miss your mammi’s birthday. Even if she sleeps through most of the celebration, it would still mean so much to her for you to be home.”

  “You think so?”

  “Jah, I do. Unless you have somewhere important you need to be.” She looked be
yond him at the ticket booth, and even though he glanced over his shoulder, he didn’t volunteer any information about his travel plans, and she couldn’t bring herself to ask.

  He stepped closer. “Will you still be in town?”

  “I leave Thursday.” The get-together for his grandmother was planned for Wednesday. Birthdays in their district were kept simple. Never before had the members come together for such an event, but since so many people talked about wanting to shower Irene with cards to celebrate her one hundredth birthday, an exception was made.

  He wagged his brows in a teasing manner. “Maybe I’ll see you there?”

  “Perhaps.” As a playful smile tugged at her lips, warning alarms blared in her head. Why couldn’t Zach have the same easygoing nature?

  Chapter 8

  Catherine’s suitcase sat against the bedroom wall, packed since the day she purchased her ticket. The only thing left to decide was the items to take in her carry-on.

  Catherine flipped through the informational brochure she’d been given at the time of booking the trip. Most of the items on the things-to-take list didn’t apply to her. She wouldn’t be listening to music, watching downloaded movies, or playing video games, so electronic devices, headphones, and batteries weren’t necessary. Except for the Farmers’ Almanac and the Bible, she wasn’t much of a reader. Two full days on the road would be boring with nothing to occupy the time. She considered packing her knitting needles, but Budget Bus policy clearly prohibited sharp objects. Catherine ran her finger over the rounded end of her crochet hook, then slipped it into the carry-on tote bag along with two large balls of navy yarn.

  The bedroom door opened, and Julie shuffled into the room, having just woken up from an afternoon nap. Her lips puckered into a frown.

  Catherine lifted the girl’s chin. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

  “I don’t want you to go, Aenti,” Julie whimpered.

  Seeing tears collect on her niece’s lashes tugged Catherine’s heart. “I won’t be gone long, and I’ll bring you, Leah, and Jimmy something back from Florida.”

  Julie swiped a tear off her cheek. “You will?”

  “Absolutely, but you have to promise to be a gut girl while I’m gone and help your mamm.”

  “I will.”

  She reached for Julie’s hand and gave it a tug. “Let’s go downstairs and see if your mamm and schweschaler are ready to make cookies.”

  Always eager to bake sweets, Julie’s face lit with a wide smile. The two of them descended the stairs hand in hand. Although Catherine was looking forward to baking cookies with her sister-in-law and nieces, she wasn’t looking forward to going to the birthday celebration for Elijah’s grandmother. She had too many things left undone, or at least that was the excuse she’d given Gwen earlier today when she arranged for Gwen to take the card and gift with her.

  Under different circumstances, Catherine would have enjoyed watching Irene unwrap the scarf she had made, but staying home was for the best since in order to get to the bus station in the morning on time, she needed to leave the house before daybreak.

  A sweet scent of cookies filled the air as Catherine and Julie made their way into the kitchen.

  Gwen and Leah rolled small balls of chocolate chip cookie dough and placed them on cookie sheets. “We decided to make peanut butter, chocolate chip, and sugar cookies,” Gwen said. “That way, you’ll have some to take with you on your trip.”

  “Gut idea. They’ll make a nice treat.” Catherine washed her hands at the sink. She had planned to pack a couple of sandwiches, an apple or two, and whatever she could find that wouldn’t spoil to take on the trip. The bus made regularly scheduled stops, according to the information packet, but she would cut down on expenses by bringing her own food.

  Julie pushed a chair next to the counter and climbed up on it, but Gwen redirected her to the bathroom to wash up before helping.

  Catherine tied an apron around her waist. She needed to remember to pack an apron to take to Florida. Once she arrived, she would be busy in her cousin’s bakery. She looked forward to working with new recipes. The menu items hadn’t changed much since she had started cooking at The Amish Table, and all of those she had already committed to memory.

  Hands still wet, Julie climbed up beside Catherine and picked up a spoon. Her dress sleeves dripped from washing up in a hurry, but Catherine pretended not to notice.

  Leah scooped a spoonful of dough from the bowl. “What type of sweets will you be making in Florida, Aenti Catherine?”

  “Fancy pastries and turnovers. Maybe donuts. Dawn said she would teach me how to decorate cakes. Apparently their bakery sells a lot of special-occasion cakes to the Englisch folks.”

  “Best be careful nett to sample too much,” Gwen said.

  “Jah, I’m going to try nett to.” Her sister-in-law’s warning was a gentle reminder of the diabetes that ran in the family. Mamm’s sweet tooth in the end caused much more pain than pleasure.

  Catherine handed Julie the eggs to crack over the bowl, then picked out the pieces of shell that fell into the batter. She took her time and let Julie do as much as possible. When it came time to sift the flour, her niece shook the sifter like a salt shaker, and flour went everywhere.

  Gwen eyed her youngest daughter when the white powder landed on her.

  “I should have demonstrated first.” Catherine dabbed a white dot on the end of Julie’s nose. “I think I’d better finish this part. You can make the crisscross pattern with the fork.”

  Julie relinquished the flour sifter and watched as Catherine measured out the rest of the ingredients. By the time they slid the first pan of peanut butter cookies into the oven, Gwen and Leah had started working on the sugar cookies.

  It took most of the afternoon to bake several dozen cookies, and after sampling more than she should, Catherine had no appetite for supper. Gwen and the girls indicated they weren’t hungry either, but they all worked to reddy-up the kitchen and get supper on the stove.

  A short time later, the girls had the table set, and Gwen and Catherine had a pot of chili bubbling on the stove and a loaf of corn bread cooling on the counter. Like clockwork, George came in from doing the evening chores.

  Gwen looked up from stirring the chili. “Where’s Jimmy?”

  “I sent him out to fetch the mail.” George removed his coat, hat, and boots. As he took his place at the table, Catherine was ready with a mug of coffee. “Danki.”

  “How’s the wedder?” Catherine asked.

  “Kalt.” He picked up the mug of coffee and blew over the steaming surface. “I don’t think it’ll snow tonight, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

  “That’s gut.” If the bus trip was canceled due to a storm . . . She pushed the thought from her mind.

  The door opened and Jimmy scooted inside, a fistful of envelopes in his hand. He handed the mail to his father, then slipped out of his boots and coat.

  George sorted through the stack, then set the mail aside except for an envelope he held up. “This letter is yours, Catherine.”

  “Just set it by mei plate, please. I’ll get it in a minute.” She finished slicing the warm corn bread, then set it and the butter crock on the table. Gwen came behind her with the chili, and Leah and Julie with milk-filled glasses.

  As Catherine sat down, she recognized Dawn’s handwriting on the envelope. Had her cousin changed her mind about needing help? Catherine’s stomach tumbled. Unable to eat more than a few nibbles of food, she pushed her bowl of chili aside.

  Gwen motioned to Catherine’s bowl with her spoon. “You’re nett hungry?”

  “Too many cookies.”

  George shifted on his chair, straining his neck to look toward the jar on the counter. “What kind did you make?”

  “Chocolate chip, peanut butter, and sugar,” Gwen replied. “But those are for taking to Irene’s birthday celebration. You didn’t forget, did you, George?”

  “Nay, I didn’t.” He seemed less than enthusiastic a
s he slathered butter on another slice of corn bread, then took a bite.

  “Is there gonna be cake?” Jimmy asked.

  “None for you if I don’t see you eat your supper,” his father said.

  Her nephew ate faster, as did the girls.

  A few minutes later, George pushed his chair away from the table and stood. “I’ll hitch the buggy.”

  Jimmy shoved the last spoonful of chili into his mouth, washed it down with a gulp of milk, then followed George outside.

  “Finish up, girls,” Gwen said, collecting the dirty dishes.

  Catherine gathered an armload and met her sister-in-law at the sink. “I’ll reddy-up the kitchen. You and the girls go get ready.”

  “What about you? Don’t you need to change for the get-together?”

  “I’ve decided nett to go. I have too much to do to get ready for mei trip tomorrow, and I don’t want to be up late.”

  “What about Zach? Shouldn’t you tell him goodbye?”

  “He hasn’t made a point to kumm visit, and he knows I’m nett working at the restaurant, so . . .” She shrugged. He wasn’t interested in having a future with her—she wasn’t marriage material. “It’s for the best,” she said, not realizing she had spoken her thoughts out loud until Gwen frowned.

  Her sister-in-law leaned closer and lowered her voice. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out between you and Zach. You know . . . the proposal.”

  Catherine forced a smile. “‘To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.’” She busied herself by plugging the drain and turning on the tap water. “It’s just nett mei season for marriage, is all.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “That makes two of us, so can we please drop the subject?” Catherine turned her attention to Leah and Julie as they clamored over to the sink with their dirty dishes. “You can stack them here.” She patted an empty space on the counter.