by Kelly Irvin
“She’s not the only one who likes you.” Leesa giggled. “Unless I’m mistaken, but I’m not.”
Her cheeks as hot as any fire that burned in the Kootenai National Forest, Mercy glowered at her sister. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.” Leesa giggled again. “We better go. I’ll bring the box.”
In an awkward silence they climbed into the buggy. Leesa insisted on sitting in the back with Lola safely ensconced in her box on her lap.
Mercy kept her gaze on her hands and her thoughts off the man sitting next to her. He was simply giving them a ride. More importantly, he was the last one to see the home she and Leesa grew up in. “How bad was it?”
Caleb snapped the reins and the buggy jolted forward. “It’s best to leave it to Gott. His will be done.”
Platitudes she’d heard her entire life. “But do you think our house burned?”
“I don’t know.” His glance brushed against her, full of sadness. “I wish I could tell you more, but we were blessed to get out alive.”
“That’s what’s important.”
“You don’t sound convinced.”
Was he suggesting she valued the house more than his life? The man had pea gravel where his brain should be. “It’s hard. I grew up in the house. You’re new here. You don’t have the same connection to the place.”
He didn’t respond. She gave him a sideswipe glance. The sadness had grown and taken root in the lines around his mouth and eyes. He seemed years older.
“I don’t mean you have fewer feelings. It’s just—”
“I know I’ve only been here two years, but it’s home for me too.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“We have to believe Gott has a plan.” The stone fell away, replaced by an uncertain smile. “For all of us.”
Something about the way he said “all of us” with a hint of inquiry sent a wave of warmth flooding through Mercy. Maybe he could forgive. Maybe there was hope for a new start somewhere in their future. She hadn’t meant to end their relationship. Only slow it down until she could be certain Caleb was the one. He simply hadn’t given her the opportunity to say that.
Turning down a man’s proposal surely hurt his pride as well as his heart. How could he forgive that? She studied her hands in her lap. Even if she could go back to that evening down by the lake, she wouldn’t change her answer. She couldn’t. Caleb, whether he could see it or not, hadn’t given her enough of himself to warrant another answer.
A yowl ripped the air.
“Lola!” Leesa screeched. “And she’s gone again.”
Mercy swiveled. Her sister bent over, peering into the street. “What happened?”
Leesa held up her hand. “She scratched me. Then she dove out of the buggy.”
Caleb pulled over to the curb and halted. “Shall I look for her?”
“In the dark?” Mercy shook her head. Maybe Lola wasn’t happy with God’s plan either. “Poor thing is probably trying to get back home.”
Caleb clucked and shook the reins. The buggy jolted into the lane again, headed for Grandma Knowles’s house.
No one spoke. Maybe Lola had the right idea.
9
Eureka, Montana
Two hugs from family in one day exceeded Spencer’s daily quota. He kept his distance from Angie in case she decided to make another run at him. His sore ribs couldn’t handle it. Or his rusty emotions. He shouldn’t have come to the church. The look on Tim Trudeau’s face said as much. Ten years and Tim assumed Spencer was still the troublemaker who broke into Libby’s high school and herded a cow into the principal’s office after they beat Eureka High School in their annual cross-county rival football game. He hadn’t acted alone, but he was the one who got caught and suspended.
A stupid high school prank. Then there was the smoking under the bleachers after a football game. And drag racing on Saturday nights. Not much else to do in Podunk towns like Eureka and Libby. The tourists had the money to boat and ski and kayak and camp. Local boys like him didn’t. Especially ones who didn’t have dads to take them hunting and fishing.
On the other hand, if he hadn’t come, he wouldn’t have run into an Amish girl with eyes that could slay a man in under fifteen seconds.
She reminded him of Pretty Patty.
“So who’s this big boy?” With one last glance at the two sweet-faced women who scurried toward the doors, he plopped into the folding chair next to the boy who hid half-in, half-out under the table. He had Angie’s round face and his dad’s blond curls. “He looks about thirty or forty years old.”
“I’m Mikey. I’m three.” Mikey burped and giggled. “I want juice.”
“I like your fire truck.”
“Me too. I want juice.”
“No juice. It’s bad for your teeth and it makes you poop too much. Here’s your water.” Angie handed the boy a Paw Patrol water bottle and patted his head.
He frowned. “Want juice.”
“No juice.”
He sucked from the water bottle, but fat tears rolled down his round cheeks.
Ignoring them, Angie turned to a little girl who wrapped her body in Angie’s voluminous white skirt. She was four or five. With her gorgeous black hair past her skinny shoulders and blue eyes, she looked nothing like Angie or her daddy. A throwback to Marnie. “This is Kylie. She’s a budding artist and she loves to dance. Her favorite singer is Taylor Swift and her favorite show is Fancy Nancy. She wants to be a veterinarian when she grows up.”
Taste in music aside, the little girl was a sweetie. She chewed on her lip and gave Spencer a serious once-over. “Are you Mommy’s daddy?”
“No, I’m her brother. Like Mikey is your brother.”
“Do you have a dog?”
“Nope.” No dog, cat, gerbil, or goldfish. A guy who was gone for chunks of time during fire season couldn’t have pets. They might starve.
“What’s wrong with your leg?”
“I hurt it jumping out of a plane.”
“People don’t jump out of planes. They fly in them.”
“I promise you, I jump out of planes. To fight fires.”
“Firefighters use trucks, not planes.”
Sane people did. Or so he’d been told. He gave Kylie the thumbs-up and pointed to the baby in the car seat. “And who is sleeping beauty?”
“My little sister. Janie. She can’t talk. All she does is sleep.” Kylie wrinkled her small nose in disgust. “She can’t even feed herself. Even Mikey feeds himself. Her diapers stink.”
“Give her time. She’ll catch up.” Like Spencer knew anything about babies. He’d never been close to one. He smiled up at Angie who was busy wiping her face. She blew her nose with a squawking honk. “You did good, Sis.”
“Thanks.” She smiled, but the waterworks started all over again. “I guess Rocky didn’t think so.”
“Rocky is a—”
“Not in front of the kids.”
“Right. Sorry.” He took the crutch she offered him and pulled himself to his feet. “By the way, who’s the girl?”
Angie swiveled and glanced over her shoulder. “Which one? Why?”
“The one in the blue dress.” He had plenty of experience with Amish folks. Everyone in Eureka and Rexford did. He’d never given them much thought before. Too quiet. Too shy. Too religious. But this girl had a straight-on gaze that didn’t look away even as her cheeks went red. The blonde was pretty, but the tall woman had something her friend didn’t. A steady but inquisitive gaze that told him she saw more than most. And maybe even liked what she saw. “With the eyes.”
Angie scrunched up her face the way she always did when he said something she couldn’t understand. Angie was a people person, but she didn’t pay attention to the outside. She was only interested in their inner workings. She rattled through a bunch of papers on the table until she picked up one. “That’s Mercy Yoder. Her sister is Leesa.”
“Mercy me.” He hummed under his breath. “Mercy, Mercy.”
Angie smacked him on the arm. “Don’t even think about it. They’re Amish. They don’t mix and there’s a reason for that. You don’t even believe in God.”
The beautiful, eerie silence after his chute opened filled Spencer’s head. The tops of towering trees. Open meadows. Streams. Fleeing deer loping across the landscape. “We haven’t really talked in ten years. You don’t know what I believe. You don’t even know me.”
“Whose fault is that?” Angie grabbed a wipe from a bulging pink Barbie backpack sitting on the table. She proceeded to wipe up the stinky spit-up coursing down Janie’s chin onto her onesie. “I’ve written you and called you and sent you birthday and Christmas presents. What do I get from you? An occasional postcard and an obligatory call on my birthday.”
“Obligatory. That’s a big word.”
“Don’t try to make me feel stupid.”
“I’m not. You’ve changed, that’s all. How much are they paying you to work in this church?”
“Better than the day care. I’ve been taking some online courses. I want to get my bachelor’s degree in social work.” Janie started to wail. Angie unbuckled her and picked her up. “I need to change her. Can you keep an eye on the other two for a few minutes? If folks come in, give them the registration form to fill out and send them over to Lori, the Red Cross representative.”
“You really think it’s a good idea to leave your kids with me? Which reminds me, how could you possibly leave them with Marnie?”
“Mom has changed.” Angie tucked the backpack over one shoulder and walked away. “You just said you have too. So put your money where your mouth is, put up or shut up, and prove it.”
Wow. If anybody had changed, it was his sister. She had gained ten pounds with each child, but she carried it well. With the magenta hair and bright-purple glasses, she was a walking billboard for free spirit, something his sister had never been. Gone was the scared kid who hid in her closet at night, fearful of the strangers who traipsed from the bedroom to the bathroom or danced to old-timey rock ’n’ roll in the living room at three in the morning.
He winked at Kylie, who returned the favor by wrinkling her entire pixie face in an effort to squeeze shut one eye. “Do you know how to do the hokey pokey?”
“Yep.” Kylie sounded scornful. “Since I was little.”
Crutches would add spice to the song.
“Give me a minute and we’ll play.” He riffled through the registration forms. Mercy Yoder of West Kootenai. Daughter of Jonah and Elsie Yoder. Sister of Leesa. They were staying at a house a few blocks down on First Avenue that used to be Sally Knowles’s place. She’d been ancient when he was in high school.
Grandmother to Juliette Knowles, trouble on two legs, who’d spent her every waking moment making the lives of boys at Eureka High School miserable. Thankfully, she’d been too young for him.
And probably long gone from Eureka. It wasn’t large enough for a personality like Juliette’s. She needed a bigger pond.
Unlike one Mercy Yoder. Still waters ran deep and were far more interesting.
10
Eureka, Montana
A car honked. Mercy jumped. Caleb pulled up on the reins and moved to the right, letting the car pass. After Lola’s decision to bail out, the ride had been mostly silent. The longest day of her life had turned into the longest evening. They turned onto the block where Grandma Knowles’s house sat. Mercy couldn’t think of a thing to say to Caleb—nothing she could say in front of Leesa, that was sure.
“It’s been a while since you’ve been in a buggy in the city, hasn’t it?” Caleb’s glance sideswiped Mercy. “I promise you I’ll get you home safely.”
No sarcasm wound itself through the words. In fact, they almost sounded tender.
He knew how awful she felt because he surely felt the same way.
“I wish it were home.” Mercy regretted the words as soon as they escaped. “I mean, Grandma Knowles’s house is nice and it’s nice of the Knowleses to let us camp out there, but I hope we don’t stay long.”
“I’m trying to think of it as an adventure. It was an adventure to move to Montana from Indiana. This is part of that adventure.”
Mercy studied his expression. Bravado replaced tenderness. He always put on a good show. His real feelings remained a mystery to her.
An adventure was hiking in the mountains and spotting a grizzly bear or a huge elk or a mountain lion. An adventure was camping by the lake and hearing the howl of the wolves. An adventure was catching a big rainbow trout and frying it over an open campfire.
“I could do without this kind of adventure.”
“I know you’re not one for it in general.”
The sarcasm had returned. A woman didn’t enter into marriage as an adventure. It was a sacred union that had to last a lifetime. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.”
A smothered snort of laughter from the back. Leesa seemed to be enjoying this.
More awkward silence.
The chorus of raspy crickets accompanied the clip-clop of the horse’s hooves on the asphalt and the squeak of the wheels. Maybe they had colds. For reasons she couldn’t fathom, Mercy found this funny. She chuckled. The chuckle of an exhausted schoolteacher who’d left her job and her home to stay in a stranger’s house.
“What are you laughing at?” Caleb sounded offended. “I’m glad you find this conversation funny.”
“It’s not—”
Squealing tires and the sound of a revving engine saved Mercy from having to share her silly thought.
Juliette’s little white pickup swerved in front of them and pulled into Grandma Knowles’s driveway. The windows were rolled down and country music blared. Juliette stuck her head through the window and waved. “Just the people I wanted to see.”
“Whoa, whoa.” Caleb fought to control Snowy. He eased the buggy to the right and parked at the curb in front of the house. “Easy, girl, it’s just a lady who should know better.”
“Sorry about that.” Juliette’s blithe expression belied the words. “Mercy, your dad called my uncle Rod’s house.”
Feeling like an old woman, Mercy climbed down from the buggy. Her legs threatened to buckle. She clutched her skirts and willed her body to cooperate. “What did he say? Where is he?”
“In Rexford.” Grinning, Juliette popped from the truck. “He asked us to tell you they’re staying with the Wamplers until tomorrow. It got so late, he didn’t think it was a good idea to drive the wagons and trailers on the highway after dark.”
“Praise Gott. I’ll tell Mudder.” Whooping like a ten-year-old, Leesa scrambled down from the buggy, scampered up the steps, and disappeared through the door without a backward glance.
Juliette turned to Caleb. “Are you staying here?” Her shapely eyebrows lifted under blonde bangs. “That would be cozy.”
“Nee, no, no.” Caleb ducked his head and wrapped the reins around his hands. “I’m headed to some friends of Arthur’s. Ian and I are staying in their RV.”
“Ahh.” With an exaggerated sigh, Juliette leaned against the bumper, one cowboy boot propped behind her. “Too bad. No man of the house here tonight.”
“We can take care of ourselves.” Mercy glared at her friend. Juliette grinned in return. Mercy turned the heat up on the glare. “Do you want to come in and say hello?”
“I’m pooped. I need to get to Uncle Rod’s before they lock me out. They’re big on early to bed, early to rise.” Juliette glanced at the phone in her hand. Disappointment flittered across her face. She stuck it in the back pocket of her jean shorts. “Did you see Nora or Christine?”
“I saw Christine on the road. She yelled something about needing to talk ASAP. I haven’t seen Nora.”
Mercy would miss their regular powwows to discuss the mysteries of love. What did Christine mean about the ASAP? Had something happened?
“Did you have a chance to stop by the church?”
Knowing Juliette, she only wan
ted news of one person. “Tim was headed back to Libby.”
Disappointment returned to her dimpled face, but she shrugged. “No biggie. I just wondered if he knew the latest evacuation status.”
“He’s fine, Jules.”
His face red, Caleb cleared his throat. “I should get moving.” He clucked and shook the reins. The buggy started forward. For a second it looked as if he would say something else. Instead, he pulled from the curb and drove away.
“Take care. Don’t be a stranger.” Juliette waved after the departing buggy. Caleb didn’t look back. “Mercy might need your help moving boxes tomorrow.”
“Juliette!”
“Caleb still loves you.”
“He’s doing what Plain people do. We help each other.” Mercy popped the tailgate and hoisted herself onto the truck’s bed. “And we forgive—even Englisch women who drive like crazy people.”
Even the seemingly unforgivable.
“Hey!” Juliette nudged Mercy with her elbow. “He’s waiting for you to change your mind. You could, you know?”
“No. That door closed.” Mercy fanned her face with her fingers. “I wasn’t ready when it opened, and just like that, it closed again.”
“You haven’t done a very good job of explaining why you let it close.” Juliette hopped onto the truck bed next to Mercy. She swung her shorter, bare legs. “You claim it’s because you don’t want to give up teaching, but I’m not buying that. Plain women have one goal in life and that’s to get married and start popping out babies.”
“Juliette!” Her friend had a way with words that could still make Mercy cringe, even after all these years. They’d become friends over cookies at a volunteer fire department fund-raiser at age five. Other English girls lived close by, but Juliette was the one who stuck. If anyone would understand, Juliette would. “It was so unexpected. He went from talking about books and taking me fishing and hiking to asking me to marry him. There was no . . . in between.”
Juliette wrinkled her perfectly shaped nose. “No in between? You mean like no necking.”