by Ruth Reid
“Put on your coats and boots, girls. Daed should have the buggy hitched.” Gwen covered a plate of cookies with foil. “Catherine, I wish you would change your mind. I hate that you’ll be spending your last nacht alone.”
“Don’t worry about me. Like I said, I have a lot to do before tomorrow.” Starting with reading the latest letter from her cousin. Her ticket was nonrefundable. Maybe she should have prayed more. Catherine mindlessly swabbed the bowl with the soapy dishrag.
“See you later,” Gwen said as she and the girls left.
“Okay. Have fun.” Catherine waved at the girls, pleased that Julie had been too preoccupied with her big sister to question why Catherine wasn’t going with them. She washed all the dishes except for the chili pot and the corn bread pan, which both needed time to soak.
Catherine held her breath as she opened the letter and didn’t exhale until she scanned past the greeting and down to the part where Dawn said she was looking forward to her visit. Excitement bubbled up as Catherine read more.
. . . Trust me, winter here in Sarasota will feel odd at first. Most days are in the eighties. You’ll find yourself confused over what month we’re in because it always feels like summer. Also, you won’t need to pack much. Other than to a funeral, we don’t usually wear dark colors in our district. The darker colors absorb more sunshine, which then heats you up faster and makes for a miserable day, especially working in the hot bakery kitchen. Our dresses are pastel shades with white aprons. But don’t worry, I’ll let you wear some of mine until we can arrange a sewing day just for you! How are you at riding a bike? I’ve already secured one for you to use while you’re here. I think you’ll like it. It even has a basket attached to the front handlebars.
A knock at the back door pulled her attention away. She went to the door and was taken aback from the unexpected visitor. “Zach.”
“You sound surprised.” His jaw twitched.
“I suppose I am.” She opened the door wider and stepped aside. “Kumm in.”
Zach stomped clumps of snow off his boots on the mat, then entered. “How are you?”
“Gut, and yourself?” She motioned to the table. “Want to sit and have a mug of kaffi?”
He shuffled his feet and looked around the room awkwardly.
“George, Gwen, and the kinner went to Irene’s card shower,” she said.
“Jah, I saw them.”
Without asking again if he wanted coffee, she went to the stove, placed a log on the embers, then moved the kettle to the middle of the stove. Even if he didn’t want something hot, she needed something to divert her attention.
He cleared his throat. “Mary told me you left early on Sunday.”
Why was he telling her now—more than a week later? She hadn’t wanted to start this conversation on the defensive, but she couldn’t hold her tongue either. “Did your schweschaler tell you I went home sick?”
“Jah.”
Not heeding the inner voice of reason telling her to leave it alone, she asked, “What day?”
His brows drew together in what looked like confusion.
Catherine persisted. “What day did she tell you?”
He lowered his head. “Sunday.”
“Service Sunday or visiting Sunday?”
He groaned. “The Sunday you went home sick.”
Figures. Catherine opened the side compartment of the stove and poked the wood—not that it needed repositioning, as the fire was burning nicely.
“I should have kumm over sooner. You know how I lose track of time when I’m working in mei shop. I—”
Ignoring him, she went to the cabinet next to the sink and removed two mugs. “Do you still take cream in your kaffi?”
“You know I do.” He snorted.
Okay, so that was an unfair dig. Still, he deserved a little push-back, since he’d been the scarce one lately.
“Catherine, would you rather I leave?”
Is that what you want to do? In her brief moment of hesitation, his body stiffened and face hardened. He was probably feeling a little sting of rejection.
He headed to the door.
“Nay,” she said as he reached for the doorknob. “I’d like you to stay.”
Tension seemed to drain from his body right before her eyes. His ramrod-straight spine and squared shoulders softened. When he pivoted around, an impish smile filled his face. As if he’d gone from feeling rejected to feeling empowered, he strutted toward her with a demeanor that spewed confidence.
Catherine turned her attention to the whistling kettle. She poured two mugs of coffee, fixing his according to how she knew he liked it, then set the mugs on the table. She motioned to the chair opposite hers. “Have a seat.”
He pulled the chair out from the table, plopped down, and crossed his arms. “When were you going to tell me that you’re leaving town?”
“You were upset with me on New Year’s Eve and haven’t made a point to talk with me since. I didn’t think mei leaving would matter.”
“I’ve had a lot on mei mind—a lot to think about.”
“Me too.”
He picked up his mug, took a drink, then set it down. “I went to the get-together tonight, assuming you would be there.” He looked down at the mug, gripped its handle, but didn’t pick it up. “I drove mei sleigh. I thought we could geh for that ride I promised to take you on.” He lifted his gaze to hers and held it unwaveringly. “Do you want to geh? I, ah—I’d like to talk to you about something.”
A mixture of excitement and unease battled for control over her nerves. A shudder, starting at the hair follicles on her head reverberated down to her toes. “Okay. Do you want to finish your kaffi first?”
He took another drink, then stood. “We can geh—unless you want to stay longer and drink yours.”
Coffee wouldn’t sit right on her roiling stomach. “I’ll get mei cloak,” she said, stunned by his sudden eagerness. Catherine went to the wall peg and plucked her cloak off the hook. She tried not to think about what urgent matter he wanted to discuss with her. Had something been said earlier at the get-together? Was Elijah the one who told Zach about her leaving town?
She’d barely had the scarf wrapped around her neck and face when Zach opened the door. He grasped her elbow as they descended the porch steps and didn’t let it go until he assisted her into the sleigh. The evening wasn’t as nippy as she had expected for mid-January, but sitting on the cold bench did cause her teeth to chatter.
Zach lowered a blanket over her shoulders. “Better?”
“Jah, danki.” She sighed. He wasn’t one to show attentiveness often, but even a simple gesture like placing a blanket over her shoulders warmed her heart.
Zach took the reins and directed the horse over the snow-covered field, the steel runners gliding effortlessly as the sleigh whooshed over the snow.
The moon shedding light on their path reminded Catherine of the verse in Psalm 119: “Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path.” Lord, I ask that, as You light this path for us tonight, You will also guide me in all of Your ways as I seek You.
Zach pulled back on the reins once they reached the crest of the hill near the dense forest on state land where towering trees blocked the moonlight.
Breathing in the pungent, sappy scent of jack pines, hemlocks, cedars, and the various firs opened her sinuses much better than the greasy ointment she’d lathered on Julie’s chest the night she was sick.
Zach shifted on the bench, lantern light flickering in his eyes. “This is where I wanted to take you on New Year’s Eve.”
She gulped. Was he leading up to another lecture of why she was out of place proposing?
Zach leaned back on the bench and lifted his gaze upward. “I find it interesting that people all over the world are looking at the same sky. Of course, it’s daylight in some parts of the world, but we’re still all under one big sky.”
“The stars seem almost touchable,” Catherine said, relieved he’d changed the subj
ect from the night she’d proposed. Leaning back on the bench, shoulder to shoulder with Zach, she began counting the stars. This time tomorrow she would be somewhere en route to Florida, and the following night, if all went as scheduled, she would be stargazing in Sarasota.
For a long time neither spoke. If it wasn’t for a nearby branch cracking under the weight of the snow and the sound of various trees creaking in the distance, there would be total silence. Catherine cleared her throat. “Earlier you said you wanted to talk with me about something.”
His chest and shoulders rose and fell as he inhaled and exhaled. “Why are you going to Florida? Is it because of me . . . or does Elijah have something to do with your decision?”
She closed her eyes. Lord, please give me the right words. “It’s a mixture of things.” She opened her eyes. “When I saw Elijah again after so many years, I realized mei life hadn’t changed. His had gone on, but mine had somehow stalled. After six years I’m still living with George and Gwen, still working at the restaurant, still—” She lowered her head. Telling him she was still single would be as useless as beating a dead horse.
“What were you going to say?”
“A soon-to-be thirty-year-old old maiden.” She sighed. “I didn’t realize the depth of mei bitterness. You were right to rebuke me the way you did. I never should have proposed.”
His silence stretched into eternity, then he rubbed his gloved hands along his thighs. Either he was cold or nervous—she couldn’t tell which.
“Do you want to get married?” he blurted.
Was he proposing? No, not the way his face had pinched and he was staring straight ahead. If this was a proposal . . .
His chest expanded, then deflated. “Is marriage what’s most important to you?”
By what sounded like pent-up tension released in his heavy exhale, she wasn’t sure if she was being set up to be scolded, but since he asked, she wouldn’t withhold the truth. “It’s what all young maedels dream about doing,” she said softly.
“Then let’s get married.”
“What?” She’d heard him plainly the first time, but she needed to hear it again—she needed to hear some sort of declaration of love.
“We can get married,” he said matter-of-factly. “Nett right away. I still have to build mei business, but sometime . . . in the future.”
He droned on about how he’d received a large contract for grandfather clocks for a major franchised furniture store, but Catherine kept wondering why she wasn’t, as Mary had said, floating on air. Just the opposite. A heaviness filled her chest and a lump wedged in her throat. Where was his “I’ve loved you forever”?
“. . . Mr. Ziglar wants to buy mei clocks exclusively. He said I should expect—”
“Zach”—she held up her palm—“aren’t you interested in mei answer?”
He smiled sheepishly. “I was rambling, wasn’t I? I’m sorry. Yes.” He reached for her hand. “Let’s make it official.”
She held her breath, becoming light-headed.
“Catherine Glick, we should be able to get married . . . someday. Soon. That is, if you want to.”
A sinking—no, a drowning sensation—overcame her. Had she been in the lake, she’d be sitting on the sandy bottom with lungs filled with water. Zach proposing, she becoming his fraa, was exactly what she had always wanted, so why didn’t it feel right? Beyond her understanding, something was amiss.
She gasped for air, which he mistook as a yes, because he pulled her into a tight embrace. “It shouldn’t be more than six months. Maybe a year or two at the most,” he said. “I’m glad you won’t be going to Florida.”
“Zach.” She pushed off his chest. “Are you only asking me to marry you because you don’t want me to go to Florida?”
“Is there something wrong with that? Just the other day, you proposed to me.”
“And we both agree nau that it was wrong. I already promised mei cousin that I would kumm. She needs help in her bakery, and I—I need time to think. And so do you.”
Chapter 9
She had made the right decision, hadn’t she?
Seated in the lobby of the bus terminal, Catherine stared at her ticket. Her cousin would understand if she canceled the trip, especially once Dawn learned Zach had finally proposed. But Catherine didn’t understand why his proposal included an ultimatum—forgo the trip.
Catherine glanced at the large wall clock. The bus wasn’t scheduled to leave for another forty-five minutes. Tightening her grip on the ticket, she closed her eyes. Lord, I hope I’m nett just being stubborn. Please show me some sort of sign, and please make it something obvious, like sending Zach to the terminal to proclaim his love.
Someone nearby cleared his throat, and she looked up.
“Do you mind if I sit here?” Elijah pointed to the empty seat beside her where she had placed her quilted tote.
She stared absentmindedly at him a moment, then moved the oversized handbag to her lap. The Lord had a sense of humor if this was His obvious sign. Don’t read anything into it.
Catherine had seen him in the terminal the other day when he came to buy a ticket to go back to Badger Creek. Still, it was nice to have someone familiar to sit with while she waited for the bus.
He tossed his duffel bag under the chair and plopped down. “How long have you been here?”
“George dropped me off a couple of hours ago. I heard there were several people at the get-together for your mammi. I hope she had a gut birthday.”
“She did, I think.” He grinned. “She slept through most of it.” He lounged back on the chair and cupped his hands behind his neck. “I thought you were going to drop by.”
“I had packing to do.” Catherine fussed with a frayed string on the seam of her tote bag. At one time, Elijah was her best friend, but things were different now. She didn’t owe him an excuse for missing the party, and he certainly didn’t need to know about Zach’s visit, yet something compelled her to give account. “Zach stopped by the haus to see me last nacht.”
His smile faltered briefly. “I hope you were finally able to go on that sleigh ride you two had plans for on New Year’s Eve.”
She arched her eyebrows and hoped he took notice. “The one you interrupted?”
“Nett intentionally.” He grinned sheepishly, then angled his head to one side as if preparing to question her more about the night, but she cut him off.
“Yes, Zach took me on a sleigh ride. And the moonlight and snow-covered forest were . . . breathtakingly beautiful.”
“Gut, because you won’t find snow in Florida.”
Finding herself drawn to his sweet smile and relaxed nature, she leaned back and hugged her soft travel bag close to her chest. “Zach proposed on our ride.” Her words slipped out unchecked, and for half a second, she thought his breath caught in his throat, the way he rasped.
“I didn’t think—I mean—well . . . congratulations?” His voice formed the statement into more of a question.
A question, because anyone who had become engaged as recently as last night wouldn’t, or at least shouldn’t, be sitting alone in a dingy terminal, waiting to board a bus that would take her hundreds of miles away. She chose to ignore his question and addressed what he didn’t say. “You didn’t think what?”
He shook his head.
“No, tell me.” She elbowed his ribs.
He grasped his side and slightly recoiled, then chuckled. “Ouch, brutal.”
His words were playful and overtly loud. Catherine smiled until she realized their antics had garnished the attention of the other travelers in the lobby. She shouldn’t have drawn unnecessary attention to them by elbowing him.
“Elijah.” Her strong tone captured his attention. She made an open-palm gesture, suggesting he finish his sentence. “You didn’t think what?”
He resumed his previous position, hands linked behind his neck. “I didn’t think Zach wanted to get married.”
Her face froze as Elijah’s words struck he
r like an ax.
Elijah sat upright, a grave look on his face. “Well, obviously Zach changed his mind from—”
“New Year’s Eve when he rejected me?” An image of Zach’s hardened expression from that night in the barn flashed before her eyes. “Is marriage that important to you?” His words echoed in her mind, and remembered humiliation heated her cheeks.
Elijah shifted in his seat to face her. “Zach was smart to get his head together. That’s what I should have said.”
Unable to acknowledge the pity in his eyes, she redirected her attention to the soda machine across the room. Lord, am I supposed to take any of this as a sign from You? Did Zach get his head together and propose because he loves me or to keep me from leaving town?
“Are you thirsty?” Elijah must have noticed her staring at the machine. “I’ll buy you a soda.”
“Danki, but nay. If I drink anything nau, I’ll have to use the restroom, and I’m getting ready to board a bus for a very long—” Enough rambling about yourself. “You never said what time your bus leaves.”
He glanced at the wall clock, then at his ticket. “They should announce boarding in a few minutes.”
Her mouth dried. Catherine swallowed hard to force the lump down before it permanently lodged in her throat. His leaving was final. In a few short minutes, he would walk out of her life—again.
Zach proposed. Was it safe to assume Catherine turned him down? After all, what newly engaged woman would want to spend months apart from her intended? Plus, her brother had brought her to the bus depot—not Zach. If Elijah were in Zach’s boots, he would have driven her to the bus station, seen her off safely—no, he would have talked her out of going so far away—had she been his future wife.
But Catherine wasn’t pledged to him, and it was unlikely that she would ever trust him again.
Still, Elijah had found her sitting alone, deep in thought. She wasn’t as distraught as she’d been in the barn, but . . . what? He twisted his hands, cracking each knuckle as thoughts of Zach and her future pelted him. Elijah rubbed his thighs. He had to know.