Katie's Choice

by Amy Lillard

  “Tell me you have pictures to go with these notes.”

  “Good afternoon to you too, Jo. Yes, as a matter of fact, it is a lovely day.”

  “Don’t play with me, Carson. These notes you sent over are spectacular. But I need the visual angle.”

  “About that . . .” Zane rubbed the back of his neck trying to ease the tension that had settled there. “They don’t allow their picture to be taken.”

  “Of course they don’t. That’s why I sent you. If anyone can get the photos, it’s you.”

  The image of the stern-faced Abram Fisher popped into his head. Abram was nothing if not fair. Pious and straight-walking. And Ruth who was so self-conscious of her post-chemo body, plus Annie, John Paul. Katie Rose. He had grown to care for them all since coming here, and Zane couldn’t find it in himself to betray their trust.

  His silence must have said it all. Or at least enough. “Listen, Zane. Juarez is a big job. Big job. If you can’t handle the Amish . . .” She didn’t elaborate. She didn’t have to. If he couldn’t complete his assignment with the Amish, then he’d lose the Mexico assignment to another reporter.

  He heaved a sigh, resigned to follow through with his instructions. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “I’m sure you will.”

  Zane could hear the triumphant smile in her voice. Jo always liked to get her way. Now all he had to do was figure out how to complete his assignment without alienating the people around him.

  6

  Zane heard the car approach and moved even farther to the side of the road.

  “Wanna ride?”

  He looked up at John Paul’s smiling face. Zane knew for a fact the young man had been out half the night, but he still looked as refreshed as if he’d slept plenty. He stopped and thought about asking where he’d been, but that surely wasn’t part of his story. Instead he shook his head. “Nah. It’s too pretty to be cooped up in a car.”

  John Paul looked crushed. “You’ll get there faster.”

  “That’s exactly the problem.”

  “I’ll drive the speed limit.”

  Zane shook his head. “No, thanks. Driving too fast isn’t your only problem. How did you get a license, by the way?”

  John Paul just smiled. “Where are you headed?”

  Zane nodded down the road. “The schoolhouse. Katie Rose said I could come by today and she would show me around, tell me about teaching all the grades in one room.”

  “If I drive, you won’t miss the first bell.”

  “I can live with that.”

  John Paul laughed. “Suit yourself.”

  “You dad was looking for you this morning.”

  John Paul’s easy smile faltered. “Was he mad I was late?”

  “Late is not quite the word for not showing up at all.” And mad was not quite the word he would have used to describe Abram Fisher’s mood. More like silent seething.

  The young man shrugged, but his mossy-green eyes clouded over.

  “I take it rumspringa isn’t a good enough excuse to miss milking the cows and feeding the chickens?”

  John Paul shot him a look. “Have trouble this mornin’, city boy?”

  “I didn’t try to milk the chickens, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  John Paul laughed. “Well, I guess I will go work on the tractor engine in the barn. Dat said it was burnin’ oil. Let me know if you want a ride home.” He held up a shiny black cell phone.

  Zane’s brows rose. “Where’d you get that?”

  He smiled. “I have skills.”

  “I hope that’s not why you’re late.”

  “Nay.” But his smile held secrets. “See ya later, Zane Carson.”

  He gunned the engine, leaving Zane standing in a cloud of dust and rattletrap exhaust.

  Zane was rounding the last bend when he heard the bell—an old-timey metal one with a string tied to the dangly thing inside. School had begun.

  He quickened his steps, his mind going back to his years racing for the bell. He was homeschooled—or rather taught by his parents during his years at the cooperative. His uncle had dumped him in public school the minute they landed in Chicago. Culture shock was too mild of a word to describe Zane’s reaction to the huge urban school. There were more people in his grade than lived in their entire settlement in Oregon. It was loud, noisy, and concrete. He hated it immediately. Only his budding love for girls had kept him coming back. The experience had been hard for him, but it made him stronger. He had learned to adapt, overcome, and find his niche. He credited the experience with allowing him to grow into the man he was today. A man who could jump on a plane at a moment’s notice and travel halfway across the world to cover the latest breakout of war. Compared to facing a sea of middle school faces as insecure as he had been, sleeping in war-torn countries and living off whatever he could find was a piece of cake.

  His conversation with Jo weedled its way to the front of his thoughts. Her orders shouldn’t have been different from any of the others he’d received in his career. He was well-versed in overcoming the confines of his situation in order to bring in the story. Why should this time be any different?

  He reached the schoolhouse steps.

  “I thought you might not make it, Zane Carson.”

  Zane smiled at the greeting, letting the soft lilt of Katie Rose’s voice wash over him. It was the people, he decided. These loving, caring people who worked side by side helping each other in an uncertain world. They struggled without war, modern conveniences, and outside help. Their fight was inspiring. And he wasn’t sure if his own conscience would allow him to betray their wishes. Invading their privacy was enough. “I wouldn’t miss this for anything.”

  She shook her head, and he resisted the urge to reach out and touch the strings of her untied cap. “I fear you will be sorely disappointed.”

  I wouldn’t count on it. “I’ll be the judge of that,” he said and followed her into the schoolhouse.

  He had thought he would encounter antique everything inside to match the outside, but apparently, even the Amish had trouble replenishing the old with the same. There were five rows of seating, two the old-fashioned wooden kind, but the next three rows were plastic chairs with small tabletops bolted on one side. There was a green chalkboard instead of a smart board, and another blackboard covered one wall, lesson plans for each grade written there.

  Students of varying sizes sat at the desks. It was hard to guess ages and class levels, but it seemed that Katie Rose had reserved the newer desks for the smaller children. Everyone had turned in their seats, all eyes trained on him.

  “I’ll just . . . sit here.” He found an old metal folding chair and pulled it to the back of the classroom. His job was to observe, not interfere, and he wanted to make his presence in the room as unobtrusive as possible.

  Katie Rose smiled that Amish Mona Lisa smile of hers and motioned him forward. “Let me introduce you first. Otherwise we won’t get any work done.”

  He made his way between the tiny desks to the front of the room. Had the desks been that small when he was in school?

  “Scholars, this is Zane Carson. You may have heard your parents talk about my family’s Englisch visitor. Well, here he is. Zane Carson wanted to come and visit the school today. So I need you to be extra good. And if’n you are, maybe this afternoon, we can talk him into sharin’ a little about his life with us, jah?”

  The children nodded enthusiastically.

  Zane hid his laugh and tried not to breathe too deeply. This was as close to Katie Rose as he had been in a long time. The desire to soak in the special lilac and ginger scent that belonged to her was almost more than he could bear.

  He was almost dizzy from lack of oxygen when she said, “You can go back to your seat now.”

  “Oh
. Right.” Zane walked to the back of the classroom, hoping his face wasn’t too red and wondering if this idea of being friends with Katie Rose was a good idea.

  She could feel his eyes on her as she moved around the room. Allowing him to come today was not the smartest idea she had ever agreed to. She had felt so guilty over her harsh treatment of him, but with him watching her, she could barely keep a thought in her head.

  Jacob Kauffman had to remind her about the reading test she’d scheduled for the sixth grade. She gave him a few extra points for honesty. Since he was the only twelve-year-old she had, he could have easily skated right through the day without the test, and no one would have been the wiser.

  From the morning bell to the lunch bell seemed like an eternity. She was certain Zane Carson had received a top-notch education from his fancy Englisch school. And although she was raised not to judge, she knew that others hadn’t had the same upbringing. Had he found his visit informative or backward? She hoped he didn’t think she was a simpleton. She might not have a fancy diploma or years of education to her name, but what she had served her well. Too much school was a bad thing, but she didn’t want to come up lacking in the eyes of Zane Carson.

  She said a small prayer and asked forgiveness for her prideful thoughts. The Lord was good, but she had to get ahold of the devil to keep him out of her mind’s wanderings. What the Englischer thought of her was really no matter. By the beginning of the new year he’d be back in fancy Chicago, and she’d still be teaching the Amish children of Clover Ridge. It was as simple as that.

  “All right, children, it’s time to put away your books and get out your lunches. It’s a beautiful day, so let’s go outside and enjoy what the Lord has provided for us, jah?”

  Amid the choruses of “jahs” Katie Rose put away her own papers and wondered just how long one school day could be.

  Katie Rose tried to hide her surprise when Zane Carson wandered up and dropped down beside her under the elm tree. It was a beautiful day for being outside, but it wouldn’t be long before the weather changed. Oklahoma weather could be so unpredictable, one day it could be eighty degrees and the next one forty. It was gut to get outside and enjoy the blessings of a warm sunny day before the winter set in.

  “Good lesson, teach.”

  She tried not to smile at the compliment. It was a sin to be prideful, and she’d best remember it. Instead, she made a show out of looking for Samuel. He’d made a play for independence this year, following behind his brothers and emulating their actions. She was proud of him, but worried all the same. A part of her mourned the little boy stuck to the back of her skirts. Her baby was growing up.

  “He’s fine,” Zane said, and Katie Rose knew he was right. When they got home tonight, Samuel would be back in her skirts once again, his play at “big boy” ending when there weren’t so many people around. But for now she’d let him enjoy his role in the family.

  She pulled her lunch box into her lap, not so much from hunger, but for something to do with her hands. Her fingers itched to reach out and touch the wheat-colored strands of Zane Carson’s hair, pushing back in place what the wind had ruffled. He might be used to such familiarity with sophisticated Englisch girls, but she wasn’t used to the feelings a’tall.

  “Did you not bring anything to eat, Zane Carson?” She opened the small plastic container of chicken salad and the baggie filled with crackers.

  “I never even thought about it.”

  “I should have told you.”

  He shook his head. “No big deal. Your mother and Annie cooked a huge breakfast, and I had a piece of pie before I ate that.”

  “I’ll share.” She offered him a cracker covered with the chicken salad.

  “Really. I’m fine.”

  She couldn’t let him starve for the noonday meal. He wasn’t accustomed to their ways. She should have warned him that everyone packed a lunch for school.

  “Take it, Zane Carson.” She used her best teacher-to-student voice. It must have worked because a heartbeat later he accepted the cracker from her. His fingers brushed against hers, and an unfamiliar feeling shot up her arm, like the time she picked up a battery with wet fingers. Not entirely unpleasant, but shocking in its surprise.

  “Danki,” he said, then popped the entire cracker into his mouth.

  “Are you learnin’ your Deutsch, Zane Carson?”

  “Why do you do that?”

  “Do what?” She gave him another cracker, this time careful not to touch him at all.

  “Always call me by my first and last name?”

  She shrugged, stalling for time to properly answer his question. The Commandments warned against lying, but she couldn’t tell him that calling him anything other than his full name seemed too intimate, that his Christian name on her tongue felt like a sin.

  “It is just our way, I suppose.” She tried not to notice how the wind ruffled his hair. Or how brown his eyes were, deep and bottomless, dark like rich chocolate.

  He was an Englischer. Not like them.

  Why the Lord sent him here to tempt her, only He knew. But it was time for her to be strong. Keep her focus. Maybe God was just testing her faith like He did with Abraham. Or maybe He was making sure she knew her life’s calling and embraced it like she should.

  Jah, that’s what it had to be. She passed Zane half of the apple she’d sliced that morning and stood, automatically dusting the bits of grass from her skirt. “All right, children. Five more minutes.”

  Customary groans rose from the kids, but she only smiled. She well remembered the days when she galloped and played outside, enjoying the feel of sunshine on her face. Just because being around Zane Carson made her as anxious as a teenager at her first singing didn’t mean she had to take it out on the kids. She sank back to the ground and grabbed a bite of the apple for herself.

  Maybe she’d let them have ten minutes.

  Ten more minutes.

  Because that’s all she could stand.

  “Katie Rose, I thought Zane was going to tell us about his life?”

  “What say you, Zane Carson? Would you be willin’ to come up and answer a few questions from the kinder?”

  Zane opened his mouth, unsure of how he should answer. By English standards he led an exciting life, but did the children need to hear about his life in a war zone? Twenty-five pairs of eyes stared at him, imploring him to talk and give them a break from boring lessons.

  “I’ll do the best I can.” He stood and stretched his legs, then slowly made his way to the front of the schoolhouse.

  Zane rubbed his hands together to expel some uncharacteristic nervousness. “So who wants to go first? How about you?” He pointed to one of the boys in the middle of the room. The young fellow was sitting next to Gabriel Fisher’s son, Simon.

  “Why are you dressed like us?”

  Easy enough. “I came here to learn how it feels to be Amish. So Mr. Fisher—”

  “Abram!” one of the kids shouted.

  Katie Rose frowned.

  “Yes, Abram gave me some clothes like you wear to help me get a jump on things. Next question.”

  “Are you a farmer?”

  “I suppose that I am right now, but normally I’m a reporter.”

  A little girl with blonde braids raised her hand. “My dat writes a column for Die Botschaft.”

  He turned to Katie Rose for explanation.

  “It is our weekly newspaper. Old Order Amish, that is. Most people in these parts take it.”

  He made a mental note to find a copy. “That’s gut.” He smiled at the young contributor, and the class laughed at his attempt at Deutsch.

  “Children,” Katie Rose’s voice was mild in its warning, but still had the desired effect. The kids quieted immediately.

  Zane answered questions for another h
alf hour. The children were charming with their inquiries about his car, movies, and television. Not one of them asked about the dangers of covering wars all over the globe, though one little boy asked him if he’d ever seen a kangaroo.

  “Only in the zoo,” he answered, much to the child’s disappointment.

  “Well, that’s not sayin’ much. I’ve seen one in the zoo.”

  The class burst into laughter. Even Katie Rose had a smile twitching on her lips. Zane wished he could bottle it and save it for later. Instead, he savored the moment.

  Zane returned to his seat at the back of the room while Katie Rose delivered homework assignments. “Spellin’ test for the second grade tomorrow first thing.”

  The smaller kids groaned.

  “And math for all grades.”

  This time everyone groaned until she said the magic words. “School dismissed.”

  And Zane realized that he still hadn’t thought of a way to photograph the Amish.

  “Can I walk you home?”

  Katie Rose nearly jumped at the sound of his voice. She had thought she was finally alone and able to deal with the warmth that the fancy Englisch reporter sent to her middle.

  “Zane Carson. I thought you’d be halfway there by now.”

  He shrugged, and she noticed how broad his shoulders were. Commanding, solid. The kind of man a woman could depend on to work by her side and raise a family, build a home.

  She shook away the thoughts. If God were to send a man for her, it surely wouldn’t be the Englischer standing opposite her desk. Standing so close she could smell the fresh scent of his shirt, the commercial shampoo he used in his hair, and something special that belonged to him and him alone.

  “I thought it might be nice to walk together.”

  She raised a questioning eyebrow. It would be more than nice. It would be pure temptation, a delightful way to get home.

  Her hesitation, it seemed, was enough to send him into explanation. “I thought we’d agreed to be friends,” he said. “I’ve already told you that I mean no harm to you or anyone in your family. I’m here to help.”