Katie's Choice

by Amy Lillard

  She shook her head. “I can’t do this.”

  Annie laid a hand on Ruth’s trembling fingers. “What’s the matter, Ruth?”

  “It’s the cancer doctor.” She hated the tears that sprang into her eyes. She didn’t want to answer. Couldn’t answer. What if the news was bad? She wasn’t afraid of dying. She knew what awaited her on the other side. She was not afraid to go meet Him.

  She was afraid she had wasted the community’s money. She should have never agreed to treatment. It was too costly with no guarantee of return.

  “Aren’t you going to answer it?”

  Ruth shook her head again. “Nay.”

  Annie shot her an exasperated look. “Give me that.” She took the phone and pressed the little button, stopping the buzzing, the silence making Ruth all the more nervous.

  “Hello?”

  Ruth could hear the voice of the person who had called, but she couldn’t understand the words they said.

  “No, it’s not. This is her daughter.” Annie winked at her, her confidence making Ruth’s stomach hurt. It wasn’t right to lie, but she was glad Annie had told the caller she was Ruth’s daughter. Ruth didn’t think she could hear the news of her test over the ringing in her ears.

  “Uh-huh,” Annie said.

  She was smiling. That had to be a good sign, but still Ruth wouldn’t let her spirits rise.

  “Yes, sir. We appreciate all you have done for her. I’ll be sure to let her know.” She hit the button again and handed the phone back to Ruth.

  It seemed an eternity before Annie finally spoke. “The tests came back clear. You are cancer free!”

  12

  The news spread like a grass fire in September. Only when his body relaxed in relief did Zane realize how concerned he’d been. He had grown close to the Fishers in the weeks that he’d been staying with them, and he wanted nothing but happiness for them. Katie Rose would have said, “God is good,” or something about the power of prayer. Zane was starting to believe that she could be right. More than right.

  Spot on.

  The whole community had been praying for Ruth’s recovery. Even he had bowed his head and asked God in his stuttering words if He could find a way to see Ruth healed. And God had answered in a big way.

  Katie Rose might have said those words too, but Zane didn’t know because he hadn’t seen her since the Christmas pageant. He supposed she was busy getting Christmas ready for the boys and Gabriel. At least he hoped that was what she was doing, and that she wasn’t avoiding him. He liked spending time with her, wanted to get to know her better. If only a little before he had to leave for Chicago.

  Funny, but now the thought didn’t fill him with relief like it did before. He should have been happy, ecstatic even that it wouldn’t be long before he got to leave Oklahoma and the Amish ways behind. But he wasn’t.

  Maybe Christmas was getting to him. It never had before. Then again, he’d never given it any thought before. He’d never bought into the commercialism of trees and stockings, Santa Claus and reindeer. He’d simply gone through December the same way he would any other month.

  But this year, he discovered faith in God—and that changed everything about Christmas.

  Maybe, too, it was seeing the Fishers so happy over the news of Ruth’s healing, excited and enjoying each other as the holiday that meant so much to them approached.

  Annie was baking cookies and friendship bread, and Noni was knitting like her life depended on it. John Paul was the only one who seemed to be taking life in the same stride, yet Zane was sure it was because he was working so hard trying to provide more for his parents.

  Their excitement was contagious, and Zane couldn’t help letting it seep into him as well. A few days before Christmas, he borrowed the buggy and drove into town to pick up the present he had ordered for Ruth and the other gifts he’d been planning.

  He had loved his time with the Fishers. Their lifestyle was gentle and unassuming. Difficult, but enjoyable. Filled with happiness and each other.

  The only thing he missed was tacos.

  That’s how he’d give back. He would cook them all dinner. Surely there wasn’t anything in the Ordnung about Mexican food, but just in case, Zane asked Mr. Anderson when he stopped by the general store.

  “Nothing at all, son. Nothing at all,” Coln had answered.

  Once Zane had been given the all clear, he drove the buggy to the grocery store, walking each aisle as he tried to remember everything he would need to make the perfect taco feast.

  He didn’t know what kind of spices Annie and Ruth had stashed away in their kitchen, so he bought a little container of everything—garlic salt, crushed red pepper, black pepper, and taco seasoning. He also picked up fresh garlic, refried beans, tortillas, and hard taco shells. He gathered ingredients until the basket was filled.

  He received a few strange looks as he walked the store. He supposed he was a curious mix of English and Amish. At least his pants didn’t show his socks now, thanks to Katie Rose’s expertise with a needle and thread. But his hair, in urgent need of a trim now, was still in an English cut, not the chili bowl meets Buster Brown style that the Amish preferred. He had grown a beard for sheer warmth, but instead of shaving off his moustache, as was the Amish custom, he’d left it. His clothes were exclusively Amish, though, and the cashier shook her head in confusion when he paid for his purchases with a credit card.

  He smiled to himself, but didn’t offer an explanation. It’d give her something to talk about later with her friends.

  He loaded his purchases into the buggy. He hadn’t brought a cooler to make sure the perishables made it to the house without getting warm, but that wasn’t a big concern today. The sky was overcast, the wind from the north, and the old-timers were talking about an early snow.

  He hoped it would snow. Unlike Chicago, he’d bet the snow here stayed whiter longer. He could just imagine how beautiful the land would look covered with a thick layer of white powder. Might even be clean enough in the Amish country to make snow cream.

  The flash of a childhood memory snuck up on him. He’d forgotten about making snow cream with his parents. What a treat that had been. His heart warmed at the thought. One more good memory to add with the rest.

  The ride back to the Fishers’ was slow and cold, but Zane found the easy pace allowed him the time to stop and reflect on the day. To think about all that had happened, all that he needed to get accomplished. Instead of racing around and trying to speed from one place to another, Zane found that the buggy ride helped to clear his mind. Made him take a step back and see the day, the week, the month.

  He passed by the driveway to Ruth and Abram’s and headed on to Gabriel’s place. There couldn’t be a celebratory taco dinner without all of the Fisher children there. He wished he had thought about it sooner, because he might have located the elusive Megan Fisher, Ruth and Abram’s long-lost daughter who’d sought greener pastures in the English world.

  As it was, Gabriel and his brood needed to be there. He owed Gabriel one after the plow episode. The boys may have forgotten about it, but Zane hadn’t. And he had the peppers in one of his many shopping bags to prove it.

  He turned down Gabriel’s drive and said a silent prayer that Katie Rose was home. It was probably unhealthy how much he wanted to see her. He knew nothing could come of it. Yet knowing that didn’t lessen the desire to look into her eyes. Not one bit.

  His heart gave a happy thump as she came out onto the porch, wiping her hands on her apron and smoothing her fingers over her hair.

  “Hi,” he said, setting the brake and hopping down from the buggy.

  Katie Rose beamed him a smile, then brought it down a few degrees. She took a deep breath and nodded toward him. “Hi, to you.”

  “I’ve come to invite you to dinner.”

 
The words had barely left his mouth before she opened hers in protest. “I do not think that is a wise idea, Zane Carson.”

  “No, no, no, I came to invite everyone to dinner. I’m cooking tonight.”

  “Jah?”

  “I thought I’d make tacos to celebrate your mother’s good news.”

  “That is very kind of you, Zane.”

  He smiled. “You just called me by my first name.”

  Katie Rose hoped she could blame the pink in her cheeks on the cold or the wind. And she further hoped that he didn’t notice the extra color at all.

  “You can come, right? To dinner?”

  “Is that an invitation?”

  “It is. For all of you—Gabriel, Mary Elizabeth, the boys. Even John Paul is going to be there.”

  “He got the night off from work?” She covered her mouth with one hand, her eyes wide.

  He cocked his head. “How do you know that John Paul has a job?”

  “Everyone knows but Dat.”

  Zane nodded. “I pinned him down one night when he came in.”

  “Please don’t tell Dat. He means well tryin’ to get John Paul to experience his run-around time without distractions, but my bruder needs to do this to feel like he’s helpin’ the cause.”

  “I take it he’s not a good pickle chef.”

  “Zane Carson. Promise you won’t tell.”

  “Of course I won’t. If you promise to come to dinner.”

  Katie Rose wrinkled her nose at him, but didn’t remind him that blackmail was a sin. “That is a lot of tacos.”

  “I’m prepared.” He held up the biggest package of ground meat she had ever seen. “I’ve got two of these.”

  “It’s not easy cookin’ for so many people.”

  “I was hoping that I could talk Annie into helping me.”

  Katie Rose shook her head. “Annie can only cook what me and Mamm have taught her. I’m not sure she will be a help to you in the kitchen.”

  “Mary Elizabeth?”

  “She cannot cook at all.”

  He opened his mouth in mock surprise. “That’s a terrible thing to say about your niece.”

  “’Tis true. Cookin’ is not where her heart lies.”

  “I thought all Amish women could cook.”

  “She can go to the kitchen and prepare food to eat, but I don’t recommend that you ask her to do so.”

  Zane laughed. “Well, Ruth’s out. Even if she had the energy, the party is for her. And that only leaves . . . you.”

  “Oh.”

  He tilted his head to one side, and Katie Rose had to tamp down the urge to cup her hand over his cheek.

  “Well? Would you help me prepare this taco feast?”

  The thought of working in the kitchen side by side with the handsome Englischer was tempting indeed. She couldn’t turn him down. The party was to celebrate her mother’s victory over cancer, after all. She had to help. It was the Christian thing to do. But that was the only reason she would do it. It had nothing at all to do with being so close to the brown-eyed man who had somehow become such a part of her life.

  “I will,” she said. She just hoped the decision was the right one to make.

  Katie Rose arrived early to her parents’ haus. Too early. She had been so excited at the prospect of seeing Zane Carson again that she couldn’t help herself. She knocked on the door and let herself inside, finding no one in the front room or the kitchen. Once again everyone was out and about, with the exception of perhaps Noni. But if Ruth and Annie had taken her with . . .

  “Zane?” she called, her voice hesitant in case her mother was still in the house. “Zane Carson.”

  Surely he hadn’t gone too far. She was early, but not that early. Maybe he’d gone to town or over to see old Ezekiel Esh. The two of them seemed to be very close these days.

  She smiled. What an unlikely pair—the old deacon and the Englischer. Sounded like one of those paperback novels she had read in her rumspringa years.

  There was only one way to know if everyone was gone, so she stepped off the porch and made her way to the barn. Her family had three buggies. Well, two buggies and a wagon. John Paul’s car was missing from its place across the road, so if the buggies were gone as well, then it was a fair bet that her family had taken the afternoon to visit.

  The barn was dark and cool when she entered, and she pulled her shawl around her shoulders. She should have brought a coat, but the day was so beautifully sunny and the shawl was her favorite. It was black like all the others, but the stitching so tiny and delicate. It was old, one of the first ones Noni had made for her. When Katie Rose wore it, she felt wrapped in the love of the generations.

  Her notions were silly, but she didn’t care. The shawl represented everything good and holy that she believed in—family, love, God. She was far pressed to remember that when she was around Zane Carson for too long.

  Once in the barn, she heard his voice coming from one of the stalls. It sounded almost like he was singing. Though she had never heard him sing, she would know his voice anywhere.

  “Zane?”

  “Back here.”

  She stepped through the fall of hay, following the sound of his crooning.

  She saw him shake his head as she rounded the corner. “What are you doin’?”

  “I have no idea. But I think she’s in trouble.”

  Katie Rose’s gaze fell to the beautiful black horse her father had bought last year at the summer auction. Her belly was huge, round with the colt struggling to find its way into the world.

  She looked to Zane. “How long has she been this way?”

  “I don’t know. I came out here to check on things, and found her like this. Your father left early this morning, right after the milking, and she was all right then.”

  Katie Rose knelt down and rubbed a soothing hand down the neck of the horse.

  “If you’ll stay with her, I’ll go across the street and call your dad. Maybe he can come back and—”

  “And how do you propose to do that, Zane Carson, my dat doesn’t have one of those fancy Englisch phones.”

  “But your mother still has mine. If she took it with her—” He ran his fingers through his hair. “You’re right. Bad idea. But—” He looked down at the laboring mother, and Katie Rose was certain she had never seen a more helpless look on anyone’s face. “I don’t know what to do for her.”

  “This is her first colt,” Katie Rose said, dropping to her knees in the hay. “The horse sometimes gets confused and panicked. She’ll be fine.”

  The horse’s wild eyes calmed a bit, her snorts of distress becoming soft huffs of pain.

  Katie Rose ran a hand over the hump that was the mare’s belly, gently pressing, soothing, but at the same time trying to determine if the colt was right. Everything seemed in order. The colt seemed to be positioned correctly, but there was only one way to be certain. She glanced back at Zane, only to find his brow furrowed and his bottom lip trapped between his teeth.

  She’d check later and only as a last resort. Zane looked so nervous she didn’t think he could handle any more than what was absolutely necessary.

  His brows knit together. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

  “Calm yourself, Zane Carson. Your fears are doing nothin’ but makin’ her nervous.”

  “But . . .”

  She shot him a look over her shoulder.

  He took a deep breath.

  “She’s goin’ to be fine. She’s just scared is all. The colt is comin’ fast.”

  “So what do we do?”

  Without thinking, she grabbed his hand and pulled.

  Her motion was so unexpected that he stumbled forward, not able to catch himself as he fell to his knees beside her. “We p
ray,” she said, taking his hand and placing it on the mound of the horse’s belly.

  “Pray. Of course.” He put his other hand on the horse without being prompted, then bent his head.

  “Out loud,” she requested.

  He gave a slight shake of his head. “I’m not sure I can do it right.”

  “There is no right or wrong way to talk to the Lord. Just open your heart and let the worlds flow from there.”

  Zane closed his eyes.

  “Dear, Lord.” His words were shaky, his voice held the warble of anxiety. “I—we ask that you help this horse.” He continued on, adding in the colt and the fact that neither of them knew what they were up against.

  Katie Rose didn’t bother to correct him. She stayed on her knees, her hands splayed across the horse’s distended belly, echoing his every word inside her head.

  The horse was going to be fine, she knew it. Zane on the other hand, she wasn’t so sure about. He needed this prayer almost as much as the horse. He needed to feel that the situation was in God’s hands, and that was a fine place to be.

  His words continued to grow in strength and confidence as he prayed, asking for God to take the horse in His hands, for Him to give them wisdom and patience, calmness and clarity. For someone who had only started praying a few days ago, he did it like an old hand.

  “Amen.” He finished, opening his eyes cautiously, as if somehow right then the horse would be transformed. With a sigh, he stood, warily watching the mare for any sign of change.

  The horse still labored, and Zane looked decidedly disappointed.

  “Prayer takes time, Zane Carson. Look. See how her breathin’ is slowin’ down. She is calmin’. The colt is comin’. All is well.” She sat back on her bottom, and reached out to stroke the horse once again.

  “She could kick you if you’re too close.”

  Katie Rose shook her head. “But she won’t.”

  “How can you be sure?”