“You’re reworking my design?” Who did he think he was, sitting here doodling on something that didn’t concern him rather than completing the work she’d assigned?
“Well, I looked at yours, and it seemed like something was missing—the depth just wasn’t there. So I thought—”
“So you thought you’d fix it, huh?” Her voice squeaked out two decibels higher than normal. Slapping the pad onto the table, she glared at him. “I can’t believe this! I leave you with a simple task: finish some suncatchers. And instead you spend the day working on a design that I fully intended to complete when I returned. This was a rough draft!” She waved the drawing. “You knew that! So why mess with it?”
Andrew opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
Beth’s anger burned hotter with his lack of explanation. “Andrew, I trusted you to work on these.” Her hand quivered as she pointed to the glass wedges on the tabletop. “And you let me down. If I can’t trust you, then...” She didn’t complete the thought, but she knew by the way Andrew’s face went white that he understood the unspoken threat.
Shaking her head, she crushed her drawing and the pad holding his drawing to her coat front. “I’m going home now. I need to talk to Mom and Henry. I need to ... think. You”—she backed toward the door, taking the drawings with her—“just lock up and go home.”
SIX
Beth pulled behind the simple, ranch-style house her mother and stepfather shared, turned off the ignition, and took a deep breath to calm her rattled nerves. Finding Andrew fiddling with her design had brought a dizzying sense of déjà vu followed by a wave of panic. She could not allow another man to sabotage her plans!
Peering through the car’s window, she focused on the concrete foundation that would eventually support the two rooms Henry was adding to the west side of the house. She remembered his elation when Mom told them the doctor had detected two heartbeats. Henry’s laughter echoed in her memory along with his joyous comment, “Well, Marie, we hoped to be blessed with two children. I just didn’t expect to have both blessings at once!” He had immediately begun planning the addition so each of the new family members would have their own space.
Suddenly the concrete slab wavered, and Beth realized tears swam in her eyes. She brushed them away impatiently. What was wrong with her, sitting here getting all teary? Tired. That’s all. She was tired from her long days at the studio. And they didn’t promise to get shorter.
With a sigh, she snatched up the contract Sean McCauley had left and stepped out of her car. Henry had apparently put a snow shovel to work—the walkway was clear—so her feet stayed dry as she walked to the back porch. Although Henry had encouraged her to forgo knocking and just walk in, she didn’t feel comfortable doing it. This wasn’t her home. She tapped on the door and waited for an answer.
Mom’s smiling face appeared in the window before the door swung wide. “Honey!” Mom tugged her across the threshold and delivered a hug made awkward by her bulky front. “I was hoping you’d stop by. Andrew said you finished the cardinal piece and it was beautiful. Did you bring it with you so I can see it?”
Beth pushed the door shut behind her, twisting her lips into a scowl. “No, I didn’t even think about bringing it by. But I took some digital pictures. I’ll show you after I get them downloaded.”
Mom sighed, feigning a quick pout before flashing a grin. “Well, I guess that will have to do.” Then she linked arms with Beth. “Come on in, then, and talk to me while I finish dinner. Do you want to stay?”
Beth sagged into a chair, plopping the contract onto the little table tucked into the corner of the kitchen. “I have something I need to talk to you and Henry about, so that’d be great. Thanks.” She pushed her coat from her shoulders, allowing it to droop over the chair back, and watched her mother putter around the modest kitchen.
Her mother had changed so much since they’d left Cheyenne, there were still times when Beth did a double take. Home-sewn dresses instead of jeans and a button-up shirt; hair pulled into a bun beneath a white cap trailing black ribbons instead of tousled, loose curls; and a relaxed countenance rather than the lines of tension she’d often worn around her eyes and mouth. Returning to her childhood home had been good for Mom.
“So what did you do today since the cardinal piece was done?” Mom stirred something in an iron skillet on the stove, and the scent of peppers and onions filled the room.
“Drove to Wichita to deliver it.” Beth sniffed, and her stomach turned over in eagerness. “And commissioned a second piece, this time with the cardinal in a lilac bush.”
Mom sent a quick glance over her shoulder, her eyebrows high. “A second piece? That’s great! A lilac bush. With those tiny flowers, that should be a challenge.”
Beth flicked the stack of pages on the table with her thumbnail. “I’ll probably find a piece of mottled lavender glass, maybe with some texture, to emulate the petals. I’ll have to play around with it.” She hoped she’d have time to play around with it.
“Sounds fun.” Mom slipped a lid on the skillet and waddled to the sink. The added girth around her middle stole her usual grace, and her ankles seemed thick.
Beth frowned. “Are your feet swollen?”
Mom tipped forward, tucking her skirt against the underside of her extended belly to look at her own feet. She straightened with a soft laugh. “Oh, that’s not so bad. Sometimes my ankles seem to disappear, and my toes stick out in all directions.”
A stab of worry struck. “Did you do that when you were carrying me?”
Mom paused for a moment, sending Beth a crinkly smile. “Now, honey, you have to remember I’ve aged a bit since you were born.”
Despite herself, Beth smiled. Never would she have imagined becoming a big sister at twenty-one. She teased, “Yes, I guess it’s a good thing you have all your brothers and sisters, Henry’s brothers and sister, plus their assorted offspring to give you a hand.”
Mom tipped her head, one black ribbon trailing down her neck. “And you?”
Beth shrugged, looking at the contract. A band seemed to constrict her heart. “With all of them, you don’t really need me.”
A hand descended on Beth’s shoulder, bringing her attention around. “Beth, you realize these babies can never replace you, don’t you?”
The tenderness in Mom’s eyes brought the sting of tears. Beth sucked in her lips, gaining control, before she answered. “It’s just that everything is so different, Mom. So many changes ... Sometimes it’s hard to stay on top of it all.”
Mom went back to the stove, turned the dial, and joined Beth at the table. She took Beth’s hand, stroking her knuckles with her thumb. “You realize you don’t have to stay on top of it all alone, don’t you? You can ask God for help, and He’ll answer every time. As for other helpers, you have Henry and me, and Andrew.”
At Andrew’s name, an image of him hunkered over the worktable, redoing her drawing instead of constructing suncatchers, flashed through Beth’s mind. She jerked her hand free.
Mom frowned. “Beth?”
Beth shook her head. “I appreciate having you and Henry, and of course I know God is there for me. I’m still learning how to lean on Him, but I do know He’s there. But as for Andrew...” She puffed her cheeks and blew out a breath. “I must not be a very good judge of character when it comes to men. They let me down every time.”
“What has Andrew done?”
“Oh, nothing much. Just ignored my direction to put together suncatchers for the show in Salina and spent his time reworking a drawing he had no business reworking.” Beth attempted a glib tone, but she heard the sharp undercurrent.
Mom’s face pinched. “I’m sure his motivations were good.”
Beth bounced from the chair, marching to the stove to stir the contents of the skillet. “Just like Mitch’s motivations were good when he illegally ‘collected’ antiques for our boutique?” Vegetables and chunks of chicken caught the fury of the wooden spoon before she clanked the
lid back in place. Facing her mother, she crossed her arms. “No, I’m better off working alone. That way, things get done the way I want them done without any misunderstandings or deceptiveness.”
Her gaze fell on the contract, which lay on the table. Her heart skipped a beat. How would she keep up with everything on her own? A wave of panic struck, a silent prayer forming without effort. God, how am I going to meet these demands?
Mom struggled from the chair, arching her back to lift herself. With one hand pressed to her lower back, she crossed the kitchen to cup Beth’s cheek with her free hand. “Honey, don’t sell everyone short because Mitch made a mistake. Being alone is...” She heaved a sigh, her eyes drifting shut for a moment as if reliving something. “Lonely. Don’t cut yourself away from everyone out of fear.”
Beth felt tears sting behind her nose again. She sniffed. “I don’t want to, Mom, but—”
The back door banged open, and Henry Braun entered the kitchen. His nose and ears were red from the cold, his hair stood on end, and he carried in the odors of cold air and gasoline. He bestowed a huge smile on both women. “Well, good evening! My two favorite girls.” He crossed the kitchen and kissed Beth’s cheek and then his wife’s lips.
Beth, watching their kiss of greeting, felt a pang of envy. It must be wonderful to fully belong with someone the way her mother now belonged with Henry. She shoved that thought aside. Belonging to someone meant depending on them. And it meant being let down.
“Are you staying for dinner?” Henry asked Beth as he lifted the lid from the skillet and peeked at the contents.
“If that’s okay.” Beth watched Henry waggle his eyebrows in her mother’s direction, his face creased in a grin. The serious Henry who had shown up unexpectedly at their apartment in Cheyenne fifteen months ago had transformed into a lighthearted, teasing man nearly impossible to resist.
“Perfectly okay.” He slipped the lid in place and rubbed his stomach. “I’ll try to control myself, even though your lovely mother has prepared stir-fry, one of my favorites.”
Mom’s tinkling laughter rang as she shook her head at her husband. Beth wondered if she should creep away now and leave the two of them alone. But Mom turned to her and pointed to the cupboard.
“Would you set the table, Beth? I’ll make sure the rice is done, and then after Mr. Braun here has washed up”—she looked pointedly at Henry’s hands, which he examined with mock dismay—“we can eat.”
Half an hour later, the last of the rice had been scraped onto Henry’s plate, and Beth’s stomach ached from the second portion she hadn’t needed but had eaten anyway. Leaning back in her chair, she took a sip of water and sighed.
“That was really good, Mom. Now I know why it’s one of Henry’s favorites.”
Mom sent a fond smile across the table to her husband. “You know, he puts the title ‘one of my favorites’ on everything I fix, even if it’s just a bologna sandwich.”
Henry grinned. “That’s because no one spreads mayonnaise on a slice of bread like you do—just the right amount to bring out the flavor of the bologna without overpowering it.”
“Oh, Henry.” Mom released an amused snort, shaking her head.
Even Beth had to laugh. Honeymooners. That’s what her parents were. And at their ages! Still, she had to admit it was wonderful to see them so contented. She only wished they didn’t seem so ... complete. Where did that leave her?
Henry swallowed the final bite of rice, wiped his mouth, and fixed Beth with an intent look. “Now, your mother said you have something to discuss with us.”
Beth appreciated the way her stepfather removed all teasing from his tone before addressing her. Never had Henry treated her with anything except respect and kindness, the way she had always wanted a father to treat her. Sometimes she wished she could set aside her inhibitions and accept him as readily as he had accepted her. Yet the remembrance of another father—one she’d never had the opportunity to meet—always reared up, tangling her emotions and distancing her from Henry.
But he was right: She did have something to discuss, and she did respect his opinion. She plucked up the contract, which she had placed on the floor beside her chair, and handed it across the table. While Henry leafed through it, Beth shared the details of the visit from Sean McCauley and their conversation. Both Henry and Mom listened intently, interrupting occasionally to ask a question.
Beth finished, “It looks like it would be a wonderful opportunity if I can satisfy them with that first project.”
Henry looked over the top of the contract, his eyebrows high. “And all the expense falls on you if they don’t like it. Can you absorb that?”
Beth grimaced. “It would be painful. It would take quite a few craft-fair sales to make up for it, that’s for sure. But the risk would be worth it considering the potential payoff if they do like it. Lots more work, plus the income to expand the studio and buy the equipment I need to be completely self-sufficient.”
Henry nodded and went back to reading.
“What about the gallery in Wichita?” Mom, leaning sideways to peek at the contract, shifted her gaze in Beth’s direction. “Can’t they keep you busy enough?”
With a shrug, Beth stifled her frustration. Being torn between the gallery opportunities and the construction company’s opportunities left her feeling bruised. “I don’t know. They did commission a second piece, and Mrs. Fox indicated there would be more, but it’s still small scale compared to what McCauley is after.”
Henry shot a startled glance at his wife. “The gallery commissioned Beth to do a second piece?”
Mom nodded, pride shining in her face. “Yes, they did. She delivered the first one, and they immediately asked for a second.”
Beth wriggled on her chair, feeling as though she’d been forgotten.
But Henry set the contract aside and fixed his gaze on her. “There’s no doubt this could be financially lucrative if it works out, Beth. I guess what it comes down to is what you want to accomplish with your studio. Do you want to be strictly an artist, creating your own designs on your own time clock, which gives you freedom but maybe lacks security? Or do you want the security of knowing you’ll have steady jobs, putting together windows with someone else’s idea at the heart, and you serving as the constructor?”
Steady, secure work opposite sporadic, unreliable contracts. Designing her own projects opposite following someone else’s lead. The thoughts ping-ponged in Beth’s mind, making her dizzy with the possible pros and cons of each position. Finally, she threw her hands out and huffed in aggravation. “I want the security with the freedom to create my own stuff!”
Henry chuckled softly while Mom shook her head, her lips tipped into an amused smile.
“Well, Beth,” Henry said, one eyebrow cocked high, “the only way I see clear for that is if you continue doing both your own artwork and meet the demands of this construction company. To be honest, I’m not so sure you could handle all that on your own.”
Beth sighed. “So what do I do?”
Henry shrugged. “If you want it all, hire a full-time staff.”
Slumping back in her chair, Beth swallowed the groan that pressed at her throat. A full-time staff. As if workers were lining up for jobs in this little Mennonite farming community! She knew of only one person willing to dedicate time to the art studio.
It was back to Andrew.
***
Andrew unplugged the soldering iron and rotated his head, trying to work loose the tense kinks in his neck. The acrid taste from the solder lingered on the back of his tongue, making him wish he had one of those bottles of water Beth liked to carry around with her. Placing the soldering iron on the concrete floor to cool, he turned back to the worktable.
Satisfaction welled, bringing a tired smile to his face. It had been a hard eight hours of steady work, but seeing the suncatchers lined up, ready for the craft show, made it worthwhile. Hopefully this would make up for this afternoon, when he’d fiddled with Beth’s d
rawing instead of doing what she’d asked him to do.
“You let me down.”
Her remembered words stung on a variety of levels. He’d been taught to honor his commitments, and it created a sense of disappointment in himself that he hadn’t followed through on what had been expected. Deeper than that, though, was Beth’s lack of understanding that he wasn’t trying to let her down—he was trying to help. There had been something wrong with her design, and he had discovered the needed element to bring out the dimension.
He wished she’d at least looked at what he’d done before flinging out an accusation and storming off. Hadn’t she figured out by now that he wanted what was best for her? For them? Sighing, Andrew picked up a little whisk broom and began cleaning up the work area.
Sometimes he wondered if his fascination with Beth was unhealthy. She was so different from the other girls in the community. And it was much more than the way she dressed. She was self-reliant, a freethinker. She didn’t let anybody tell her what to do. Some perceived this as pigheaded, but Andrew preferred to think of it as independent. He admired it.
And at the same time, he resented it. An independent person didn’t need anybody else. Andrew wanted Beth to need him. One thing was certain: He needed her if he wanted to use his artistic abilities full-time.
His cleanup finished, he yawned and reached for his coat. Outside, full dark had fallen, letting him know without looking at a clock that it was well past his normal bedtime. But before heading out the door, he glanced once more at the worktable. Returning to the table, he took a moment to arrange the suncatchers in a neat line.
When Beth came in tomorrow morning, she would see he had honored his commitment. She’d teasingly told him to make half a dozen. He’d done it. She would see she needed him as much as he needed her.
SEVEN
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