by Ruth Reid
Julie focused on the potato she was working on and didn’t look up until a second truck door closed.
“Looks like we have company,” Cynthia whispered.
Amish company.
“Julie.” Doc approached the porch steps. “There’s someone who would like a few minutes of your time.”
“I know who he is,” she said.
The Amish man smiled.
“You grabbed my arm at the auction.”
“I didn’t mean to frighten you.” The man was soft-spoken. Sincere.
She glanced at Doc and tried to read his expression.
“I think you need to talk with him.” He motioned with a nod to Cynthia. “We’ll be in the house.”
Julie followed them with her gaze, but neither Doc nor Cynthia looked over their shoulders before going inside. When she turned her gaze back to the Amish man, he was on the porch.
He motioned to the chair Cynthia had just vacated. “May I sit down?”
“I suppose.”
“Mei name is Elijah Graber.” He paused as if she should recognize the name. “I understand you have some problems with your memory. So what I’m going to tell you might nett make sense, but please hear me out.”
She took in a breath and held it.
“We were in a bus accident. January 17.”
“We?” she rasped.
“Jah,” he said softly. “Your name is Catherine Rosemary Glick. I call you Cat, which kind of bothers you sometimes.” He grinned sheepishly but sobered again when she remained stoic. “The first time we met, you were ice skating—and upset with me because I was there to cut the ice.”
“Why?”
A slow smile spread across his face. “We use the slabs to keep the icehaus kalt.”
There was something very endearing about this man. He seemed sincere enough. Lord, do I know him? Is what he’s telling me true?
“I’ve been searching for you since January. When I saw you at the auction . . . Well, you know what happened.”
“I didn’t see you. I lost my peripheral vision in my right eye.”
“I’m sorry.”
She slipped her fingers under her scarf and touched her scar. “I still have some fuzziness, but that usually happens when I’m overly tired.” She wasn’t sure why she was sharing about herself. She didn’t know this man. Or did she?
“Your family back in Michigan are worried about you.”
“My family?”
He nodded. “You live with your bruder, George, and his fraa, Gwen. They have three children—Leah, Jimmy, and Julie.”
“Julie?” She stood and paced to the end of the porch. “So I do have a brother named George,” she muttered to herself under her breath. Perhaps she’d been dreaming about her niece when Amy overheard her say “Julie.” Images flashed before her eyes of a restaurant, Elijah running for a bus. She faced him. “Tell me why we were on a bus.”
“Your cousin in Florida asked you to help in her bakery for the winter.”
“I’m a baker?”
He nodded. “You’re a cook at The Amish Table too.”
She closed her eyes as bits and pieces flashed like snapshots before her. The bus. Headlights. Children crying . . . Golden eyes looking down at her.
Elijah stepped closer. “Are you remembering something, Catherine?”
“Will you excuse me?” She rushed down the porch steps and ran as hard as she could to the narrow pathway. She had to find the man with red hair. The man who told her about Kimberly— the same man who had carried her to safety after the bus accident.
She reached the lilac grove. Most of the blooms had fallen off the trees and now carpeted the grass with different shades of purple. Searching the area, she found that the redheaded man was nowhere to be found. She plopped down on the bench. “Who is he, Lord? An angel?”
A tap on her right shoulder bolted her off the bench, her heart hammering and lungs gasping for breath.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you.” Elijah lifted his palms out in a surrendered position. “I thought you saw me.”
“Nay!” She pointed to her face. “I don’t have full vision.”
Color drained from his face. “Oh, Catherine, I’m so sorry. I forgot.”
She grinned. “Nau who’s the one with the failing memory?”
“Guilty.” He shrugged.
His cheeks turned a rosy pink, which made his eyes more blue than gray. If everything he was telling her was true, she could see how she was smitten by him. She sat down, leaving him room on the bench to join her.
He motioned to the bench. “May I?”
She nodded.
“Did I say something to send you off running?”
“It wasn’t anything you said . . . I had some images flash across mei mind that—that I wasn’t prepared for.” A reappearing man with red hair and flecks of gold in his eyes. No, I can’t tell Elijah about someone who showed up only to disappear again. “Were you running to catch a bus?”
“Jah. Your tote bag was stolen in an alley outside a restaurant we had stopped at. I ran off to chase the thief, which wasn’t wise.”
“Sounds brave to me.”
“Nay, I shouldn’t have left you alone in the alley. The bus was coming and—” He shook his head. “It was a foolish thing to do.”
“Maybe the foolish part was being in the alley in the first place.”
His brows arched. “You remember?”
Her puzzled expression must have clued him that she didn’t, because his brows dropped and his eyes lost their sheen. “So, why were we in the alley?”
“You insisted on feeding a cat your leftover sausage.”
She tried to picture it all but drew a blank.
Elijah shifted on the bench. “Is that all you remember—me running for the bus?”
“I remember bright headlights and children crying and . . .” She cleared her throat. “You never said if you were injured badly.”
“Mei lung was punctured, and I dislocated mei shoulder, but other than that, just a few stitches.”
She studied him a moment, wishing her mind would cooperate and something would jar her memory. “I should get back to the haus and help Cynthia with supper.”
“Oh.” His shoulders dropped. He blinked a few times and forged a smile.
She couldn’t describe the thoughts scrambling her mind, but suddenly she didn’t want their conversation to end either. “Would you like to stay for supper? I’m sure Doc and Cynthia won’t mind. I mean unless you have other plans.”
“Nay—I mean nay, I don’t have plans. I’d like to stay for supper. Yes—yes, I would.” He blew out a breath and dialed down some of his eagerness. “I guess it’s obvious that I want to spend more time with you.”
She smiled. “I enjoyed our talk too.”
Chapter 36
Elijah received a warm welcome from everyone at the supper table except the man who had pushed him into the crowd when Elijah tried to pursue Catherine at the auction. The cowboy merely grunted when Cynthia introduced them, but Elijah played like he didn’t hear and smiled anyway.
Cynthia passed Elijah the meat loaf. “What type of farming do you do in Michigan?”
“Potato farms are popular in Posen.” He took a second helping of meat loaf and passed it to Dennis at the head of the table.
“You grow your own hay for the livestock too, don’t you?” Dennis asked.
“Jah, and depending on the year, we alternate crops of alfalfa and oats with winter wheat and barley.” He glanced across the table at Catherine who had been quiet during the meal. She didn’t look up from her plate.
Cynthia passed the bean bowl around. “When do potatoes come in season?”
“Harvest is in October. Usually it takes two weeks to gather, bag, and get them into storage.”
“Does your district use tractors?” Dennis stopped eating to ask.
“Nay, we’re Old Order. We don’t believe in using modern equipment.”
“Ye
t you rode a bus.” Matthew snickered.
“True. It’d take a month of Mondays to get to Florida by horse and buggy.”
“You mean month of Sundays.” Matthew pushed away from the table. “Thanks for the meal, Catherine and Cynthia. Dennis, I’ll check the new gelding before I turn in to the bunkhouse for the night.” The man left the house.
Catherine cleared her throat. “Farming without the use of tractors sounds like laborious work.”
“Jah. It’s a lot of bending and lifting and crawling on your knees in the dirt. Your hands stay calloused. But at the end of the harvest, when all the fields have been gleaned, our district has a big get-together. The womenfolk usually have a cooking contest. You won the honors one year with your cheesy potato casserole.”
“It sounds like Posen is a lovely place to live,” Cynthia said. “Doesn’t it, Julie—I mean Catherine?”
Catherine smiled, but it was the vacancy in her eyes that worried him. Without her saying anything, he suspected she didn’t remember a bit of what he’d talked about. Would she recognize her family, the other members of the district—Zach?
“Well maybe you can have supper with us again soon, Elijah,” Dennis said, pushing away from the table.
That was his cue it was time to leave, and he didn’t want to overstay his welcome. Only he didn’t want to leave Catherine. Today was the most alive he’d felt in a long time. He stood. “Danki for the meal. It was very nice meeting all of you.”
“Give me a minute to get the truck keys, and I’ll drive you home,” Dennis said.
“Okay, I’ll, ah . . . I’ll wait on the porch.”
Catherine stood. “Let me walk you out.” She followed him to the door, and the moment they stepped outside, she said, “Did I like being Amish?”
“Jah. In fact, you mentioned how your cousin Olivia had jumped the fence and how sad it was that she had chosen to live in the world.” Her silence tugged at his heart, and he had to ask, “Does the thought of living a plain lifestyle frighten you?”
She shrugged. “I just can’t picture living anywhere but here.”
Lord, would she think the same way if she remembered her life as Catherine? Please, give her back her memory. A distressed horse neigh captured his attention. Pickles. “Catherine, I’ll be right back.” Elijah ran toward the barn.
“You should be made into dog food.” Matthew slapped the horse’s chest with a leather belt. “Blasted nag.” He raised the belt again, but the horse reared and struck Matthew’s arm with his front hooves, knocking the hot-tempered cowboy to the ground.
“Easy, boy.” Elijah calmed Pickles with gentle words.
“Give him to me.”
The horse pawed the cement floor and snorted. “He needs time to calm down.” Elijah refused to release Pickles.
The cowboy raised his voice. “I said, give him to me.”
Dennis stormed toward them. “Matthew, go to the bunkhouse.”
“But—”
“I saw the whole thing. Go.” The doctor’s tone hardened. Then, once Matthew left the barn, he turned to Elijah. “Thank you.”
“Pickles isn’t a bad horse. He was in a bad accident and spooks easily, but with patience he’ll be a gut horse.” Elijah stepped out of the stall and closed the gate.
Dennis rested his arms on the half door and gazed at the horse. “Catherine said she and you had a nice visit.”
“She doesn’t remember me. She remembered bits and pieces of the trip and me running to catch the bus, but nothing about being Amish.”
“Give her time.”
Elijah nodded. He had no other choice.
“As for Pickles, I agree. He needs someone with patience to work with him. How would you like the job? It’d give you time to get to know Julie—Catherine—more.”
“I’d like that very much. Thank you.”
“You can start tomorrow. I’ll have a talk with Matthew and make sure he doesn’t give you a hard time. As for Catherine, you two could always make new memories.”
Whistling came from inside Pickles’s stall as Catherine approached carrying a thermos of ice water and a drinking glass. She stopped in front of the stall’s half door and peered in at Elijah. “You’re off-key again.”
Again! She remembered something new.
“I thought you might be thirsty.”
“That’s mighty kind of you. Danki.” He stopped cleaning the horse’s hoof, took his work gloves off, and approached the stall door.
She poured a glassful of water and handed it to him. “I’ve teased you about that before, haven’t I?”
“I liked to believe you loved mei whistling all these years.” He took a drink and sighed. “Wait until you hear me sing.”
Snapshot memories flashed of her sitting on a wooden bench among a crowd of women singing songs from the Ausbund. Elijah was seated across the aisle on the men’s side of the barn. Catherine smiled. “Your singing is off-key too. I remember.”
He lowered the glass from his mouth. “You do? You remember?”
“Nett everything.” She had dreamed about her niece Julie asking to sleep with her, and it had been so real the dream startled her. “I know mei name is Catherine.”
“And you know I’m a bad singer. That’s a gut start.” He winked.
“I’d like to know more about mei life. Were we . . . ?”
“In love? Jah, very much so.”
The intensity in his piercing stare sent a shimmer of tingles down her spine. Unable to hold eye contact, she redirected her attention to the straw-covered floor. “What if mei memory doesn’t fully return?”
Elijah brushed the silky hair away that had fallen in front of her face, then lifted her chin with his fingertips. “We can create new memories.”
Tears pricked her eyes. If she believed in love at first sight, it would be with Elijah. She wanted to know everything about him— about their past together.
“I was planning to give Pickles a break. Would you like to go for a drive with me?”
“Let me make sure Cynthia doesn’t need mei help first. I’ll only be a few minutes.” She raced back to the house. Was this how she felt the first time he’d asked to spend time with her years ago?
A few minutes later, Elijah helped her onto the buggy bench. Catherine gazed around at the simple boxy design.
He climbed inside and sat next to her on the bench. “What do you think?”
“Is it kalt in the winter?”
“A little, but most of the time you bundle up under a wool blanket.” He clicked his tongue, and the horse lurched forward.
She gripped the edge of the bench as the box structure bounced on its springs when making the transition from the gravel road to pavement. “Where are we going?”
“I want to introduce you to some people,” he said, speaking louder as a car passed them. “The rest of the way shouldn’t be too bumpy nau that we’re on pavement.”
The rhythmic clip-clopping of horse hooves was like music to her ears. A familiar sense of peacefulness she couldn’t describe washed over her as they continued toward town.
Elijah stopped the buggy along the curb, jumped out, and circled around to her door.
She noticed the Police Department sign in front of the building and crinkled her brows.
“I want you to meet some of the people who’ve been searching for you,” he explained. “I want them to know that you’ve been found.”
Following him into the building, a woman seated at a desk looked up and smiled. “Hello, Elijah.” She picked up the phone.
“I’m nett here to get an update.” He placed his arm around Catherine’s shoulder. “I came to give you an update. I found her. This is Catherine Glick.”
The woman looked her over. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am. I must say, you have a very determined fiancé. Elijah refused to give up searching for you, and he kept us on our toes too.”
Fiancé? Catherine’s mind went a zillion directions.
The room fil
led with several uniformed officers who seemed genuinely happy for her and Elijah. Catherine let Elijah explain how she suffered a head injury that messed up her memory, and how he’d found her at the horse auction by divine intervention.
“We won’t keep you,” Elijah said. “I know you have important things to do. I just wanted to let you know why I won’t be coming in for more updates.”
An older officer chuckled. “This is the best type of update.” He turned to Catherine. “Elijah was a regular face around here.”
“So I heard.” She studied Elijah’s face. The sparkle in his eyes— his beard. She took a step backward.
“You look like you’re ready to go, Catherine,” Elijah said. “Thanks again, everyone.”
Catherine waited until they were both seated in the buggy. “You have a beard!”
Elijah scratched his jaw. “You’re just noticing that?”
“Why didn’t you tell me we’re married?” Catherine gasped. “You have a beard—I know what that means.”
Elijah wished they would have had more time together to build new memories before he had to explain his past to her. “I’m a widower. Mei fraa went home to be with the Lord.”
“So we’re nett married?” Maybe her mind wasn’t totally scrambled. She would hope if she ever got married, she would never forget that day.
He shook his head. “I wanted to take you to meet Bishop Zook and his fraa if you’re up to it . . .”
She wasn’t sure why he shifted the conversation so quickly, but perhaps it was for the best. The whole idea of marriage—of proposing—was still confusing. “Jah, I’d like to meet the Zooks.”
A few minutes later, Elijah pulled into the driveway of a large two-story farmhouse. He parked next to the fence and got out and tied the reins to the fence post.
Catherine took in the sweet scent of hay and clucking sounds of free-roaming chickens. “It’s beautiful here.” She gazed at the large porch, the rain buckets next to the downspouts. “Have I been here before?”
“Nay, but your bruder’s haus has a big porch like this one.” He opened a door that led to the kitchen.
Two women were abuzz with chatter while exchanging baked cookies for a pan of doughy ones ready for the oven.