by Ruth Reid
“A few hours ago.”
Elijah removed a mug from the cabinet. “I sent word to George that there hasn’t been any news about Catherine.”
“Your letter said nett to kumm until after spring. Something about waiting until after the river thawed.”
“Jah, that happened a while ago.” Needing something to occupy himself with as the coffee reheated, Elijah cleaned up the mess he’d made cracking the egg. Lord, Zach has traveled a long way for a reason. Please, give me the right words.
Julie still hadn’t seen Dr. Wellington—or the redheaded hired hand—and she’d been on the ranch for two days. Cynthia had hinted at Dr. Wellington’s aloofness as Julie washed down the breakfast table. “Don’t take it personally. This isn’t a good time of the year for Doc. He usually holes up in his office or takes long walks alone. We don’t bother him, and he usually snaps out of it in a few days.”
Does Amy know about his odd behavior? Her friend had called both of the days she’d been staying on the ranch, but Amy’s work schedule was such that she didn’t have a day off until Sunday, on which she promised to spend some time with her.
Julie filled the sink with hot water and swished her hand, causing dish detergent bubbles to foam on the surface. She didn’t have many dishes to wash; the day camp children had yet to arrive. Julie had learned from Cynthia how over the years the number of campers had dwindled. Between insurance hikes and the costly updates needed to stay in compliance with state regulations, tuition was increased to offset the operational costs. For some of the out-of-state groups, it was no longer feasible.
Julie scrubbed the plate with the dishrag. She was grateful for the job, but only a fool would not see that she wasn’t needed. Cynthia handled the meals with ease. The long-term employee was a hard worker and someone Julie wanted to model her work ethic after.
Cynthia fixed a plate of chicken casserole, green beans, and a roll, then covered it with foil. She’d done the same the night before, but the food had gone uneaten. She placed the plate in the refrigerator, then grabbed a clean dish towel from the drawer. “It’s been such a treat having you here.” She picked up a plate to dry.
“The pleasure is all mine. I can finish the dishes and sweep and mop the floor if you’d like to sit and rest. You’ve been on the go since daybreak.”
The older woman chuckled. “Sweet girl, I—I’m going to take you up on that.” She removed her well-worn apron and hung it on a hook inside the broom closet, then retrieved the covered dish she’d just put in the refrigerator. While waiting for the meal to heat in the microwave, she glanced over her shoulder at Julie. “You can leave any dishes that you’re not sure where they go on the counter, and I’ll put them away in the morning.”
“Okay.”
Cynthia grabbed a set of silverware from the drawer, poured a glass of milk, then left the kitchen.
Julie finished the dishes and did her best to find where everything went. She scrubbed the stove, washed down the countertops and sink, then swept the floor. She had already mopped the floor twice today. Once after the children finished their lunch and shortly again after the hired hands had come in from the barn. Boots had left a trail of mud from the kitchen back door to the table. No wonder Cynthia hated the rainy season. Julie wanted to make a good impression, so she filled the bucket with soapy water and scrubbed the floor on her hands and knees with a stiff brush.
Cleaning the floor and baseboards, Julie worked up a sweat. She took a short break to inspect her work, and without getting off her knees, she straightened her posture and pressed her hand against her lower back.
Dr. Wellington rounded the corner of the kitchen and stopped abruptly, and the milk glass he’d been balancing on his plate fell and shattered into tiny pieces. His forehead furrowed with deep-set lines. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there. I hope you didn’t get hit with flying glass.”
“No, I wasn’t hit.” She rose to her feet. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s my fault entirely. I wasn’t paying attention.” He set the plate and silverware in the basin, then crossed the room as she was removing the broom from the closet. “Please, allow me.”
Cynthia had stressed more than once to Julie that the doctor wanted to be alone at this particular time of the year. Julie didn’t want her new boss upset with her. “I don’t mind, Dr. Wellington. Really.”
He held out his hand and smiled. “I insist on cleaning up my own mess.”
She released the broom but held on to the dustpan.
He swept the floor. “Everyone calls me Doc.”
“I’m Julie . . . Amy’s friend.”
He stopped and turned to face her. “I apologize for not greeting you when you first arrived. I had completely forgotten what day you were supposed to start. I think Cynthia, bless her heart, screens my visitors or, in your case, new hires.”
“I understand.”
He resumed sweeping. “How is everything going so far?”
“Very well, thank you. You have a beautiful place.”
“Thank you. Has anyone shown you around the farm?” He gathered the glass into a pile.
“Not yet.” She bent down and angled the dustpan. “Cynthia’s been busy training me on inside chores.”
He nodded. “Cynthia’s allergic to hay. She avoids the barns, even going outside on a windy day. Can’t say that I blame her. Once she starts sneezing and her eyes start itching and watering, she’s miserable for days. Antihistamines don’t seem to work for her either.”
“That sounds miserable.” Am I allergic to anything? She couldn’t even be certain she’d ever been in a barn. Julie emptied the glass in the trash can, then put the broom and dustpan away.
“After breakfast tomorrow, I’ll show you around myself.”
“Oh, I don’t want to bother you. Cynthia said you—” She clamped her mouth closed, noticing his face pinch. She didn’t know him well enough to know if the expression meant he’d been struck with sadness or if he was trying to hide being upset.
He sighed heavily. “I’ve known Cynthia for a number of years, and let’s just say she can be a little overly protective.”
She hadn’t learned everything about the ranch operations, but it was obvious that Cynthia cared a great deal about her employer.
“Please don’t take that wrong,” he said. “Cynthia is the one person I trust to keep this place running with or without me. Lord knows I would be lost without her.” He paused, then shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. “I’ll show you around the barns after we eat breakfast in the morning. If there’s anything you need, please let me or Cynthia know.”
“Yes, I will. And thank you again for allowing me to stay here.”
“Wish I could pay you more.” He ambled toward the kitchen entrance and stopped. “One more thing. I’m glad you’re here. I hope you feel at home. Good night.”
“Good night . . . Doc.” She crossed the room. “You don’t have to pay me. A place to stay is all I need.”
He smiled warmly. “We’ll talk about it another time. Sleep well.”
Julie waited until he left the room before inspecting the floor a final time for stray pieces of glass. She didn’t want one of the children accidentally getting cut. She swept the floor, then washed, dried, and put away the dishes he’d left in the sink. Standing at the light switch, she glanced around the room, smiling with approval. Tidy and ready for tomorrow—a new day.
For the first time since she had woken up in the hospital without an identity, she wasn’t afraid to face tomorrow. Thank You, Jesus, for providing me a place to stay—a place to call home.
Chapter 31
Elijah placed the mug of coffee on the table in front of Zach, then took the chair opposite. For several seconds the tension thickened as neither of them spoke.
Zach outlined the top of the mug with his finger. “I heard the accident was bad.”
“Jah, it was.” Elijah looked down. It was easier to study the coffee grounds floa
ting on the surface of his drink than to make eye contact.
Silence returned.
Guilt ratcheted Elijah’s throat. Even turning and coughing into his fisted hand did little to lessen the constriction.
“I haven’t stopped looking for her.” Elijah’s thoughts spilled out. He lifted his gaze to Zach’s. “I check for new updates every time I go into town. The authorities know she’s still missing. I won’t let them forget.”
“That’s what Bishop Zook said.”
“Bishop Zook of Posen district?” As he asked the question, he caught sight of the foiled plate. “The bishop’s fraa wanted me to bring you this. You never made it to supper.”
“Of Hopewater—your next-door neighbor,” Zach clarified sharply. “Imagine mei surprise when I heard your woes told to me by the bishop. You lost the love of your life—only you failed to tell him that you lost Catherine six years ago.”
Elijah swallowed hard.
Zach pushed away from the table and stood. “How did you happen to be going to Florida at the same time as Catherine? Did you two plan to leave together?”
“Nay—well, she didn’t.” Elijah’s gaze followed Zach as he paced to the door and back. “Catherine had no idea until I boarded the bus.”
Zach’s jaw muscle twitched.
Elijah motioned to the chair. “Please, sit down. Let’s talk this over.”
Zach grumbled under his breath something Elijah couldn’t decipher, but he plopped down on the chair and crossed his arms. “Talk.”
“I ran into Cat at the bus station when she was there to purchase her ticket. I found out she was going to Florida, and I changed my ticket. She didn’t know. At the time . . .”
“What?”
“She was hurt—humiliated really. That nacht in the barn when she asked you to marry her, you—you stomped on her heart.”
“So did you when you ran off to Badger Creek and got married. You don’t think that devastated her?”
Elijah closed his eyes. “I know it did.”
“Did you know I proposed to Catherine the nacht before she left?”
His friend’s words cut to the marrow, and rightfully so—he’d been betrayed. Elijah nodded. “She told me.” His stomach twisted. He’d known about the proposal and pursued her anyway. Perhaps it had been wishful thinking at the time, but something told him that she wouldn’t have gotten on a bus heading to Florida—for an extended period of time—had she accepted Zach’s proposal. “Why did she go?”
“Mei proposal didn’t change her mind about spending the winter in Florida. She had promised her cousin she would help in her bakery and—” Zach shrugged. “I messed up. I should have tried harder to change her mind.”
“She was only going to be gone a few months,” Elijah said, shamefully recalling how he’d planned to use those months to woo Catherine and convince her to fall in love with him. Now he was sorry Zach hadn’t tried harder. Had she stayed home, there would have been no chance for the two of them. She would be planning a wedding, but at least she would be alive.
His eyes moistened with tears and his throat clumped. “There’s something I have to tell you. The authorities believe . . . she’s dead.”
Zach blinked a few times, and tears spilled down his cheeks. “When you said in your letter they’re waiting until the river thaws . . .”
“I haven’t given up hope.”
Zach wiped his face. “In the morning I need to drop off a miniature grandfather clock I made for the Beacon furniture store, but then I’m planning to head back to Michigan. I think you should kumm back home. The Englisch driver I hired has plenty of room, especially after I drop off the clock.”
“Did Beverly bring you?” She’d been very concerned about Catherine every time Elijah had called with an update.
Zack nodded. “She dropped me off at Bishop Zook’s and is spending the nacht with her niece, but she’ll be here first thing in the morning to pick us up—if you want to go back to Posen.” He went to the door. “You can think about it and let me know in the morning.”
Elijah didn’t have to think about it. He wasn’t leaving Hopewater. Posen would never feel like home again—not without Catherine.
“Dr. Wellington tells me that he’s going to show you around the barns today,” Cynthia said as she flipped a pancake on the griddle.
“He insisted.”
“Yes, but what I want to know is, what did you say to get him out of his melancholy?”
“Nothing.” She couldn’t tell if Cynthia was pleased with her or ready to scold her for bothering the good doctor. Julie shook her head. “I was down on my hands and knees scrubbing the floor when he came into the kitchen with his plate. He must not have seen me at first, because I startled him enough that he dropped his milk glass, and it shattered on the floor. While we were cleaning it up, he asked if I’d had a chance to see the horses, and I said—”
“Shh.” Cynthia motioned with a nod toward the back door.
Dr. Wellington entered, a rolled-up newspaper in his hand. “One of these days I’m going to bribe that newspaper man to bring the paper to the house.”
“Nonsense,” Cynthia said. “That walk to the end of the drive every morning does you good. You said yourself it keeps your joints from stiffening.”
“Apparently my hips and knees didn’t listen.”
“It’s going to rain. I can smell it coming,” Cynthia said.
He sat at the table and unrolled the paper. “There’s not much accuracy in being able to smell rain.”
Cynthia turned and waved the pancake flipper at him. “Tell that to the American Indians.”
“You didn’t let me finish. There’s not much accuracy in being able to smell rain when you stay inside the house all day.”
Julie chuckled.
“I think Julie agrees with me,” Doc said.
She covered her mouth with her hand.
“Oh, I would think before you two decide to gang up on me.” Cynthia pointed the flipper from Doc to Julie, who was setting the table. “Especially if you want to eat pancakes today.”
Black smoke rose from the griddle. Cynthia scrambled to remove the pan from the stove. “Now look what you made me do, Doc.”
He chuckled and winked at Julie. “She can smell rain coming from miles away, but she can’t smell something burning next to her.”
“I heard that.”
“I’d better hush before she feeds us cold cereal.” He lifted his paper and gave it a snap. “In other news, the seven-day forecast reports sunshine and a high of forty-eight degrees.”
“It’ll rain.”
Julie found the banter between them refreshing. She certainly wouldn’t describe Doc’s mood as melancholy today, and she guessed that had something to do with Cynthia’s cheerfulness as well.
The back door opened, and a couple of the workers came inside, removed their cowboy hats, and sat at the table. Julie had spotted them leading horses from one barn to another when she was washing windows yesterday, although she’d been more interested in the beautiful horses.
Doc set the paper aside. “Julie, have you met Matthew and Quinn?”
“It’s nice to meet you.” She absentmindedly touched the scar on her face and lowered her head, horrified. How could she have forgotten her scarf?
“Nice to meet you too, Julie,” Matthew, the lankier one, said.
The covering was hanging on a hook on her bedroom door. It would only take a minute to fetch it.
“Julie, why don’t you ask the men if they would like coffee,” Cynthia suggested.
“I’ll take a cup,” Matthew said.
“Me too.”
So much for the scarf. She turned to Doc. “Do you need a refill?”
He tipped his mug and eyed the contents. “Maybe a little if there’s enough.”
The men were already engaged in conversation about horses and feed and fence lines when Julie set their mugs on the table. Thankfully they were kind enough not to stare.
Cynthia set the platter of pancakes in the center of the table, then went back for the plate of bacon and sausage. “Julie, if you could grab the butter from the refrigerator and syrup from the microwave, I think we’ll be all set.”
“Sure.” She found the butter, but figuring out how to open the microwave was a challenge.
Cynthia came up beside her, pressed a button, and the door opened automatically. “Sometimes it gets stuck.”
“Thank you.” Julie reached inside for the container. “Ach!” She jerked her hand out and stuck the tips of her fingers in her mouth to reduce the burning sensation.
Doc stood. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. Heat spread over her face, realizing everyone had turned their attention to her sucking her fingers.
“I’ll get this. Run some cold water on your hand,” Cynthia said.
The cold water relieved the stinging almost immediately. Julie was the last to sit down, and once she did, Doc said the blessing over the food.
The food dishes went quickly around the table as everyone filled their plates. Most of the men’s chatter was on complimenting Cynthia for how good everything smelled and how hungry they were.
A few minutes into the meal, Cynthia read the day’s itinerary out loud. “We only have one group of children arriving today. Saint Christopher’s School for the Blind. They should be here within the hour. Julie and I will serve lunch at 11:40.”
“How many are coming?” Matthew asked.
“Ten. Ages five to nine. Two are first-time riders. The ten-and-up group will be here next week.”
Matthew turned to Quinn. “We’ll need Penny and Henry brought up from the back pasture.”
Quinn shoved the last forkful of food into his mouth, washed it down with a gulp of coffee, then stood. “On it.”
Matthew and Doc talked about sectioning off the training arena, using one side for beginners and the other for advanced riders. A few minutes later Matthew had finished eating. He pushed away from the table. “Thanks for the meal. Julie, it was nice to meet you. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around.”