by Amy Lillard
“And the colt?”
“He’s so schay.”
“Who’s pretty?” Abram picked that precise moment to come back into the room, rolling his shirt sleeves down as he walked.
“Jennifer’s new colt.”
Zane stopped. “You named the mare Jennifer?”
“Nay.” Abram shook his head.
“Well, somebody did.”
“Ach, that’s true,” Katie Rose added, but her father was already on his way toward the door.
Zane could tell that Katie Rose wanted to slip out and go look at the colt as well, but her mother stood and grabbed her hand. “Let’s get you a clean kapp. The Lord will not like you goin’ around like that.” She led Katie Rose to the back of the house.
Zane wanted to drop everything and go look at the horse himself, but he had about another pound of cheese to grate and the tortillas to warm. He continued with his work. There’d be time after supper to go check on the new addition to the barn.
In no time at all, the women reappeared. Katie Rose had on a clean prayer kapp, starched and crisp white. And Ruth had a bandana tied around her head. She seemed hesitant, but Katie Rose urged her to sit and relax.
Katie Rose pointed to the bowl of salsa that Zane had made especially for the Fisher sons. “That one.”
Ruth nodded, a tentative smile on her face as well.
“I like your new prayer covering,” Zane said, opening the tortillas and getting them ready to heat.
She reached a hand upward, then stopped. “I am unsure.”
“Why?” he asked.
“I do not believe there’s a provision for this in the Ordnung.”
“Then you’re not doing anything wrong.”
“That is for the bishop to decide,” Katie Rose added.
“And since he’s not here to pass judgment, I say leave it as is.”
Ruth reached up a trembling hand and touched the soft pink fabric.
Zane smiled at the sight of all those pink ribbons and at the fact that now Ruth could call herself a survivor. Even though he’d known it all along.
God is good.
That thought made his smile even wider.
“What are you grinning about?” Katie Rose asked with a smile of her own.
“Oh, nothing.”
“Ach, that’s a fine colt, he is.” Abram may have been speaking about the horse, but his eyes were fixed on Ruth and her new head covering.
What was he thinking?
Katie Rose nodded. “And he wouldn’t be here had it not been for Zane Carson.”
Abram tore his gaze from his wife and centered it on Zane. “Is that a fact?”
Zane shrugged. “Katie Rose and I both helped.”
“Ach, a fine colt,” he repeated. “Now, what is this special dinner that you have made for us?”
“Tacos,” Zane replied.
“Dat, you’ve had tacos before.”
“But not like these,” Zane cut in.
Katie Rose raised her eyebrows in question.
“You won’t want to eat this, though.” Zane pointed to the batch of extra fiery salsa.
Abram frowned. “Why not?”
Before anyone could answer, Gabriel and his bunch arrived, soon followed by Gideon and his Annie. The house was full to bursting when John Paul loped down the stairs and went on back to fetch Noni for supper.
Zane saw Katie Rose pull Mary Elizabeth and Annie aside to warn them about the salsa. Mary Elizabeth smiled, always up for a good practical joke—especially since the men were the target, John Paul included. It seemed Annie had a sense of humor as well, for her violet eyes twinkled as she heard the plan.
Once everyone had gathered around, Zane shushed them so he could speak. “As you know, this dinner is to celebrate Ruth’s triumph over cancer.”
Everyone cheered, but amid the whoops Zane heard a few “aemens.” Even Noni tapped her cane on the floor to show her support.
“God is good,” Katie Rose added.
Zane smiled. Amazing how they thought alike sometimes. When she shot him down after he first arrived, he never would have guessed that could happen.
Now she would be the one he missed the most.
He pushed the sobering thought of returning to Chicago to the back of his mind and continued. “I thought we might do things a bit differently tonight. We’ll have our prayer and then fix our plates buffet style. That way everyone can add what they’d like to their tacos, agreed?”
A chorus of “jahs” went up all around, and Zane looked to Abram to lead them into prayer.
Abram shook his head. “Tonight, Zane Carson, it is upon you to lead us to God.”
Zane felt his neck burn, not from embarrassment for being put on the spot, but because Abram thought him qualified to talk to God. He glanced around the room, and took a long breath. “Let’s pray, then.”
Everyone bowed their heads.
As Zane started his silent prayer, he felt a hand sneak its way into his.
Katie Rose.
He tried to tell himself it was because they had shared so much in one afternoon—the joy of her mother’s healing, the birth of new life, and the joke they were about to play on her brothers. But he hoped there was more to her action than that.
Not that it would matter. He would be leaving soon.
He prayed for the Lord to bless the food, he gave thanks for being able to come to Amish country and meet these fine people, for his chance to get to know God, and to help a colt be born and all the other blessings he’d experienced. He finished his prayer with the hopes that John Paul, Gabe, and Gideon wouldn’t be too mad at him over the salsa. He wiped the smile from his face as he finished with “Amen.”
As was the Amish custom, Abram grabbed a plate for himself. Zane started one for Noni, and Katie Rose for her mother, and after that, the men gathered in to fix their tacos.
Zane showed them the best way to construct a taco starting with a shell and meat and ending with salsa. “There are two kinds of salsa over there.” He pointed to the bowls. “The one on the left is mild for the children. And the one on the right has a little more spice to it.”
He hid his mirth and tried not to stare as the big Fisher men added spoonful upon spoonful of salsa to their tacos.
“How much are we supposed to use?” Gideon asked.
“As much as you’d like,” Zane replied. “But I have to admit that I like a lot of salsa. It just seems to make the taco.”
John Paul nodded, and Zane noticed with particular satisfaction that his roommate added more spicy salsa than all the rest.
Katie Rose and Annie stepped forward to make their plates while Zane watched the brothers.
Gabriel was the first one to dig in, eating half of it in one bite. He chewed, nodded, then reacted as if steam exploded from his ears. He grabbed his water and gulped it down just as Gideon and John Paul realized the mistake they’d made as well. The brothers jumped around, fanning their tongues, talking about crazy English foods, and trying to figure out why no one else was in such pain.
Ruth cracked first, laughing until tears slid down her cheeks. Soon, everyone else joined in, though most of the kids had no idea why everyone was cackling like hyenas, unable to stop.
Zane wiped his own tears of mirth from his eyes as he poured a glass of milk for the brothers. “This will help cut the burn.”
John Paul accepted his glass with gratitude, but instead of drinking it, he stuck his tongue into the milk trying to cool it as fast as possible.
Paybacks, Zane decided, were sweet.
“Ach, city boy,” John Paul said. “What is in that devil chutney?”
Zane couldn’t help one last laugh. “Habanero peppers. Only the third hottest pepper known to man.�
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Gideon sat, eyes streaming from laughter or tears—Zane wasn’t sure which. “If that one is number three, I’ll thank you for goin’ no higher.”
Everyone laughed again, and the Fisher brothers got back in line to make tacos without the “devil chutney.”
“So, this is about the plow, huh?” John Paul spooned the mild salsa onto his new tacos, and Zane noticed he didn’t use nearly as much this second go ’round.
“Bingo,” Zane replied, then noticed the puzzled looks all around the table. “It’s like saying, ‘yes.’ It’s from a game, and when you win you call out ‘bingo.’”
They nodded their heads as if they understood, but Zane had the feeling they secretly thought he was making things up as he went along. “You should bear that in mind next time you feel like playing a trick on someone,” he said.
“It tastes just fine to me,” Noni chimed in.
Zane darted a glance at the elderly woman. Surely she hadn’t . . . Zane took in the taco she held and realized that the eldest member of the household had smothered her taco with the habanero salsa.
Noni stared back as if they’d all lost their minds, then took another bite of the taco.
Everyone laughed.
And Zane considered Taco Night a success.
His gaze locked with Katie Rose’s, and she smiled in return. He looked away first, hoping she couldn’t read the longing in his gaze. Man, he was going to miss her after he left. Once again the idea to stay flitted through his mind. It was possible, yet impossible all at the same moment. This was America and a free country, so there was no legal reason why he couldn’t stay.
Even though this trip was an assignment, it was akin to a vacation—a working vacation. And though anyone would be tempted to stay in paradise, all vacationers must return to the life where they belonged.
“I’d like to thank you, Zane Carson.”
“For what, Ruth Fisher?”
She fought back the urge to say, everything, and instead concentrated on tonight. “The tacos, the laughter. I’m afraid that my cancer has put a stop to much of that. You brought it back to us.”
“My pleasure, Ruth.”
She opened her mouth to tell him it was more than that, but he hushed her.
“Truth is, I was craving tacos, and this gave me the perfect opportunity to have my cake and eat it too, so to speak.”
She frowned. “What good is cake if not to eat?”
Zane blinked at her question, then threw back his head and laughed.
The man had a fine laugh that said he enjoyed his life. It made Ruth feel that everything was going to be just fine. It was also contagious, and she soon found herself chuckling along with him.
“That’s a good point, Ruth. A very good point.”
“There’s something else I’d like to speak to you about, if I may.” She ran her palms down her apron, suddenly unsure of how to say what needed to be said.
“Of course.”
“It’s none of my business other than it is happening in my house and under my nose. And I feel that I have to say somethin’.”
Zane immediately sobered, his laughter dying away like the last rays of daylight. “I—”
“Hear me out. Once I’ve said my peace, I’ll go on up to bed. But I did not miss the looks that passed between you and my daughter tonight.”
His shoulders relaxed, as if relieved that he had been called out, and Ruth wondered if there were other secrets in her house.
“There’s not anything.” He shook his head. “I mean, I think Katie Rose is fantastic and beautiful.”
Ruth nodded. She felt the same, of course. But she was the girl’s mother.
A shadow of something—sadness, perhaps?—passed over his handsome face. “I’m leaving in a couple of weeks.”
“I’ve been prayin’ to the Lord that He would send someone to help mend Katie Rose’s heart.” Ruth leaned her head to one side. “And He sent you.”
Zane started shaking his head before she even finished her thoughts. “It’s not like that.”
She clasped her hands around his and squeezed. “I know you are a good man. You are strong, and you work hard. You can cook and plow and milk and a host of other things.” She squeezed his hands tighter. “And I know love when I see it.”
His brown eyes grew wide.
“Oh, it’s not just on your face. I see it in my Katie Rose’s eyes every time she looks at you.” Something twisted in her heart. It was the same way that she herself had once looked at Abram—and he at her. That was a long time ago . . .
She stiffened against the stab of pain that thought brought her and instead concentrated on the young man before her. “I know that when the time comes, what is supposed to happen will come to pass. We all live within the Lord’s will.” She smiled up at him. “And love is no exception.”
Ruth’s words haunted him all of the next day as he wrapped his Christmas presents for the Fishers. It was hard to believe it was Christmas Eve. Hard to believe that in little over a week, he’d be headed back to Chicago. To reality.
And Katie Rose would remain here.
The thought that he was in love with her was absurd. He hadn’t even known Katie Rose for three months. Sure she was kind and generous, hardworking and thoughtful—and she would definitely make some strapping Amish man a good wife.
He ignored the flash of pain that shot through him at the thought.
Zane gave his head a tight shake. Just because she was compassionate and good with children, could bait a hook, and didn’t shy away when he had offered her skinned rabbits for a gift, none of that meant that he should fall in love with her. Or even could. Why, he had Monica. She was the one with his heart. She was the one he would marry.
He couldn’t be in love with Katie Rose. He hadn’t even kissed her . . . though he’d come awfully close. It was for the best that he hadn’t. She was a gentle and sensitive soul. She was smart, and she could feel the pull between them. Attraction yes, but love? Nuh-uh.
Besides, he didn’t want to take advantage of her. She was different from him, pure and chaste, good and wholesome, and not of the world. Though if others were seeing the connection they shared . . .
He would do everything in his power to keep his hands to himself and not to trifle with her emotions. He was leaving soon. He was about to get married. It was the right thing to do . . . for all of them.
All day long a suspended hush hung over the farm as if every creature held its breath, waiting for Christmas to come.
Zane was caught up in that aura of suspense too. He had wrapped all of his presents and hidden them under his bed. Even though he had never celebrated Christmas before, he knew some of the typical, non-Amish customs. Without a Christmas tree, he wasn’t really sure what to do with the gifts.
He was a grown man, and yet he couldn’t contain his excitement. This was his first Christmas, his first “real” Christmas. His uncle had considered the day a time to rest and watch football games. There were token presents, but nothing other than what was necessary—a pair of jeans, a sweatshirt, nominal gifts to mark what the rest of the world considered one of the biggest days of the year.
This Christmas would be different. He had heard the Bible story from the Gospel of Luke, had learned how Mary and Joseph traveled to Bethlehem, and that Mary gave birth only to have to put their child in a manger instead of a bed.
The thought of a woman giving birth in a barn and laying her newborn baby in the trough where the animals ate . . . he shook his head at it all. And people thought today’s times were tough.
For the Amish, Christmas Eve was a fairly typical day. There were chores to be done, meals to get on the table, darning to be completed. Everyone went about these daily tasks as though it wasn’t a special day. Still, the excitement hung in the air.
Katie Rose came to dinner, and Zane wanted to believe that she came because of him. That was certainly being proud. She probably came to spend time with her family, most important, her mother.
Not many days were left for Zane and Katie Rose to spend together. Once he returned to Chicago, things would look vastly different. Maybe he would come to believe that he had simply been caught up in the charm of the Amish, the beauty of her smile, and the thought of love. That it was all just a trick of the lighting, or sleight of hand.
None of this made seeing her any less special.
The room was dark except for the flicker of the fire and the steady glow given off by the propane light. The house was quiet, creaking and popping every now and then as if to remind them they were not alone.
How had they managed to be the only two people left downstairs while everyone else was getting ready for bed? Katie Rose knew she should leave. Mary Elizabeth was probably having a dandy of a time getting the boys to lie down and settle in for the night. As they impatiently waited for the morning to come and Christmas festivities to begin, every child knew that tonight was the longest night of the year. Samuel would be especially challenging without her there.
She stood, suddenly nervous in her own home. “I should go.” She had grown up within these walls. He should be the one feeling out of place, not her.
But she did. She stood to make good on her words, but Zane reached out a hand to stop her. “Stay a little while longer.”
It was more of a plea than a command, softly spoken into the dim light of the room. One might even say that the atmosphere was romantic, and Katie Rose wasn’t sure if she could handle the intimacy of the air alone.
“I really should get home,” she whispered in return, but she sat back down, as if her knees folded beneath her on their own.
He scooted a little closer, their legs brushing. She shivered, and wrapped her shawl a little tighter around her. She was fooling herself if she thought this reaction came from the cold. “Stay,” he said, reaching for her hand. “For just a little bit. I’ll take you home in the buggy.”