“Everything and nothing. I messed up a few things and spoke harshly to Katie. And, well, I hadn’t seen you in hours.”
Dawning understanding lit his eyes, along with a fair amount of humor. “I see.”
Oops. Henry really did see. She’d come in for his attention, which she missed very much. It was hard to find time alone with him, even though they were almost a courting couple.
And though Katie warned her that it was not the Amish way to speak of such things, Anna knew that she longed to be in Henry’s arms and perhaps steal a kiss or two. Before she could stop herself, she laid her head on his shoulder. Instead of moving away, Henry curved his arms around her back. “I’ve missed you too, Anna,” he murmured, pressing his lips to her temple.
If Anna didn’t know better, she would have guessed that Henry was very wise in the ways of the world. Very wise in relationships and the silliness and insecurities of women. That was disconcerting. But at the moment, it was comforting, too. After hugging him tightly, she pulled away. It wouldn’t do for his father to come in and see them hugging. “I guess I should go now.”
“Because?”
“I don’t want to disturb you.”
“You are not disturbing me.” Ah, but a shadow fell away from his eyes. Something bright and playful took its place. Perhaps he wasn’t immune to her, either? “Did you have another bout with the laundry?”
Anna was sure she would never like doing laundry. She hadn’t even liked washing clothes when she’d had every modern convenience at her disposal. Now doing much of it by hand was particularly difficult. She’d found pinning garments to clotheslines especially challenging—at least once a week a pair of pants, a dress, or a quilt would fly off the line, get soiled, and need to be washed again. “No. I just seem to do something wrong every day.” She pointed to her ankle. “I mean, come on, who else trips over dog toys and stumbles in her skirts?
Eyes sparkling, he murmured, “You are not the first person to trip.” With an amused expression, he glanced down at Roman, who was inspecting a spider in the corner of the room. “And puppies do have a lot of toys.”
“I know, but it’s just so silly.”
“No one is judging you, Anna. Truth be told, everyone is in awe of your efforts.”
“Even you?” She didn’t want him to regret choosing her.
Heat replaced mischief in his expression. “Especially me,” he murmured.
To her delight, he reached for both of her hands once again and linked his fingers through hers. “Most especially me.”
“I just hope you know what you are getting. I’m not perfect. And what’s more, I don’t think I ever will be perfect.”
Gently, surprisingly, he rubbed the tops of her knuckles with his thumb. Though slightly calloused, it felt warm and sent yet another spark of awareness through her. And another jolt of longing for him. “Hush, now. I don’t want perfection, I want you. What’s more, I never forget the sacrifices you are making for me. It is not an easy way of life, ours.”
“I don’t mind. This is the place for me.”
“I am grateful for that. But, what about you?”
“What do you mean?”
A knowing look entered his eyes. “You’re getting the same old Henry. Perhaps you are disappointed?”
“Never. I could never be disappointed with you.”
Anna glimpsed a hint of satisfaction, completely male and especially tender, enter his eyes before she closed her own, just as he kissed her.
When they parted, Anna couldn’t resist pressing her fingers to her lips. “Oh.”
“You are not alone, Anna. I promise, you are not alone.”
She didn’t know if his words or his actions flustered her more. “I…I better go work on the laundry again. The clothespins don’t always stay…”
“I’ll see you at supper.”
“Yes.” And then she ran. Maybe everything was going to be just fine, after all.
“And, Katie, this is where you will sleep,” Winnie finished, pointing to a bare guest room. Only a twin bed with a dark pair of quilts, a forlorn bedside table with an ancient-looking kerosene lamp, and a thick shade decorated the room. Though the November sun was shining merrily outside, no one inside of this guest room would ever guess that such a thing was happening. It was as dark and gloomy as if the sun never peeked out among the clouds.
“I don’t see hooks for clothes. Are there any?”
“Oh yes, I forgot. Jonathan said he would bring in a chest of drawers from the daadi haus and nail up some hooks soon.”
It was a most unpleasant, bare, and cold space, devoid of even a bright quilt to warm things. Everything looked cold and stark—so different from the guest rooms at the inn.
At their inn, each room had been given particular care and attention. Framed quilts adorned the walls, while a pleasing mix of traditional quilts and thick goose-down comforters covered the beds. Fluffy feather pillows and thick, crisp sheets made each bed a welcoming sight after a day of sightseeing or hard work. And the rooms smelled different—like lemon oil and sunshine.
This room smelled musty and worn, as if it hadn’t been opened or aired out in years. Surely that couldn’t be the truth? “Did you empty it for me and my things?”
Winnie blinked. “No, it’s never been used all that much. It’s just an extra place to sleep, after all.”
“Back at the inn—”
“Neither Jonathan nor I have had the time or intention to worry about decorating a bedroom.” Softening, she added, “I’m sorry, Katie. I know it’s not what you’re used to.”
Now Katie felt ashamed, indeed, of worrying about such vanities. “It’s fine.”
As Winnie scanned the room again, she frowned, regret in her gaze. “I suppose things do look a bit gloomy. You are more than welcome to spruce things up to suit you.”
“You wouldn’t mind?”
“Not at all. Jonathan and I want you to be happy here.”
But Katie heard every word that was unspoken, clear as day. Winnie was saying if Katie thought a cozy, pretty bedroom was important, then she was spending her time focusing on the wrong things.
“This room is…fine.”
As if looking at the room for the first time, Winnie scrunched up her brow. “Your inn is a beautiful place, to be sure.”
“It’s fine,” she said again. Yes, the inn was beautiful, but Katie was very aware of the amount of time she’d spent polishing spindles, starching and ironing curtains, washing walls, and waxing floors. “I didn’t come here to have fancy knickknacks.”
“Oh. Yes.” Winnie swallowed. “I know you came to help us out. To help me, most especially. I am grateful.”
“You are most welcome. I had a need to come here, as well.”
As if reading Katie’s mind, Winnie murmured, “I’m sorry Jonathan wasn’t here. His boss couldn’t let him off today. He mentioned something about a big order for a builder in Michigan.”
Obviously, everyone knew about her infatuation with Jonathan! “There’s no need to apologize. I didn’t expect him to be here, waiting for me.”
“But I am sure it would have been nice. After all, this is his home.”
“Don’t worry so, Winnie. You’ve got a suitcase to pack and a trip to get ready for.”
Winnie’s cheeks bloomed bright. “I can’t believe that tomorrow I’ll be boarding a bus to Indianapolis! I’m naerfich—as nervous as a young schoolgirl.”
Katie could scarce believe it, either. From the moment she’d made her decision, with God’s help, to go live at the Lundy home, things had moved with lightning speed. Now, here it was, the second week in November, and she was moving into her new room.
Yes, she’d been as busy as a bee during the last two days. At the inn, Anna helped her pack and asked a dozen questions about completing some of the chores Katie usually did. Her mamm and daed had each pulled her aside and offered bits of encouragement and advice.
Even Henry had offered her a hand an
d had promised to take care of the pup in her absence. Katie had been grateful for her family’s support, realizing once again how strong their love was. They were willing to support her and help even when they didn’t completely agree with her actions.
Thinking again of Holly’s letter, Katie wondered what everyone would say if they met Holly or Brandon. Most likely, everyone would like them a lot. It would only be when people realized how close Katie had been to loving Brandon and to leaving the community that eyebrows would be raised.
Of course, she wouldn’t have to guess what her sister, Rebekeh, would have to say about lying to them. Rebekeh would be critical, indeed. “It’s a shame you haven’t yet put into practice the teachings of the Bible, Katie,” she would say. “Perhaps you should do some more thinking and praying about treating others with care and concern.”
Then Katie would feel exactly how she always did around her sister—childish and inept. Because it had been Katie in the wrong.
Not Holly. Certainly not Brandon.
After closing her new bedroom door behind them, Katie and Winnie walked down the scuffed oak planks that lined the hall. The walls were painted a glossy white but were as bare and plain as most of the other walls in the home. As Winnie pointed out a few drawings that Mary did, and they joked about the art projects they’d once done side by side, Katie felt herself warming to Winnie once again. Eager to return to their former easy camaraderie. “I would also be terribly nervous about going all the way to Indiana, Winnie. It is hard to travel by oneself.”
“I’ve scarcely thought about the travel. I can only think about meeting Malcolm for the first time.” Picking up an envelope from the kitchen table, Winnie murmured, “I just know he’s going to be as perfect as I’ve dreamed him to be.”
“But what if he is not? Win, what if you find you don’t like Malcolm? Then what will you do?”
“I…I don’t know. I’ve never considered such a thing, to be honest. The letters we’ve shared are wonderful. No man who writes such words could be much different in person.”
Katie knew better. She knew firsthand how people could look one way but be far different inside. She’d been that way for a time.
She and Winnie spent the majority of the day working side by side. Winnie had carefully written out the girls’ usual routine and had shown Katie where to find everything necessary for cleaning and cooking. They walked the large cellar where only a few fruits and vegetables had been canned.
Katie bit her tongue rather than ask what in the world Winnie had been doing. Amish women were proud of their home and took great pains to see that it was pleasing to the eye and a comfortable haven for all. After all, the home was the heart of the family.
In addition, most women busily canned from sunup to sunset several times a week at harvest time, carefully storing food for the winter and spring. If the job was too big for a woman to do on her own, neighbors and relatives were only too happy to help. Katie had accompanied her mother on many an occasion to help can or freeze necessities for the coming year.
But, now that she thought of it, Katie couldn’t think of a time during their long friendship when Winnie had ever asked for help. She’d always tried to be self-sufficient as possible.
Maybe she should have offered to help Winnie more?
Katie noticed that there was little mention of Jonathan in Winnie’s notes. Because she wanted to please him, she said, “What about Jonathan? You’ve got nothing written about his needs. What time does he leave for work? When does he return? What do you make for his lunch?”
Winnie frowned. “He’s a grown man, Katie. He can take care of himself.”
That sounded surprising to Katie. All Amish women took pride in taking care of their families. Did Winnie never attempt to help Jonathan with his meals?
She was prevented from saying anything more by the arrival of Mary and Hannah. “Hello, girls,” she said with a smile as she hurriedly tried to help them off with their cloaks and hang them on the hooks by the back door. “I’ve been eager all day to see you both.”
Seven-year-old Mary stopped in her tracks. “Katie, you’re here already?”
Winnie clucked. “Remember how I told you this morning that Katie would be comin’ to stay today?”
Wordlessly, Mary grasped Hannah’s hand. They both nodded.
Katie looked to Winnie with a smile. “I’ll be here for two months. Are you two ready to help me?”
Mary looked at Hannah, then at Katie with a reproachful glare. “No.” She then walked away, leaving her lunch pail and satchel on the table.
Katie waited for Winnie to chastise the girl. But instead of correcting the girl’s behavior, Winnie merely picked up Mary’s abandoned items and put them to rights.
Yet more strange behavior followed. Dinner was a haphazard affair. No one waited for Jonathan. Instead, Winnie just put some food on a plate for him.
After dinner, the girls went up to their room instead of gathering around the hearth like Katie’s family always did. Soon after, Winnie went to her room to finish packing.
Finally, at almost seven o’clock, Jonathan entered. As soon as he noticed her presence, his steps slowed. “Katie. You came.”
“Of course I did. I said I would.” When she smiled his way, Jonathan blinked and he dipped his chin, as if embarrassed.
“Well, I’m…glad. The girls need you here.” He looked at her again, then turned away.
“I had a busy day. Winnie showed me around your home.”
“I hope you found everything to your liking.”
Suddenly, she couldn’t have cared less about her bare room or the unfamiliar surroundings. “Everything is most pleasing.”
After removing his black coat and hanging his hat on a peg by the door, he walked quickly to the sink, washed his hands, then picked up the plate she’d set out for him. “Is this for me?”
“Of course.” Taking a chance, she dared to tease him a bit. “Who else would it be for? I hope you like meat loaf.”
“I like it fine.” Once again those pale blue eyes seemed to seek hers for a moment, then drop in embarrassment. Somewhat stiltedly, he went to his meal. After taking it to the table, he offered a quick silent prayer of thanks, then he proceeded to eat without so much as warming it up for a bit in the oven.
Katie joined him. “So, how was your work at the lumberyard?”
“It was good.”
She tried again. “Did you do anything interesting? What, exactly, do you make there, anyway?”
Wearily, he wiped his mouth. “We make shells. You know, lumber frames for homes. We have a large contract for a builder out near Toledo. We build furniture, too, sometimes.”
“That sounds interesting,” she murmured, though it didn’t, not really. “Do you like it?”
“I like it well enough. My boss, Brent, is a good man.” Jonathan turned his plate a quarter turn so he could continue to shovel in his meal. In sync with his fork hitting the plate, he shrugged. “There isn’t much to say. The work is hard, but plenty. And the pay is gut, too. That’s a blessing.”
For a moment, Katie found herself noticing everything about Jonathan, all over again. The way he held his fork. The scar along the base of his thumb. The way his cool blue eyes seemed to always find hers. “Indeed. Well, I spent the day getting organized.”
“Did you have any problems?”
“No. Not at all.” She swallowed hard as once again his hand stilled and he looked long at her. “Um, please don’t worry about the girls. I will care for them just fine.”
“I assumed you would.”
“Oh. Well, then…” Her voice drifted off. When she noticed him shifting, about to leave the room, about to stand up, she blurted, “How did you get that scar?”
He stilled. “Which one?”
Before she could stop herself, she reached out and touched his thumb. His skin felt so different than hers, rough. Cool. He started from her touch. “That one.”
“Oh. I cut it years ag
o when I was mending some fencing.” He ran his other thumb across his hand, just like she had done.
“It must have been some cut.” Feeling terribly girlish, she amended her words. “I mean, it’s almost an inch long.”
He looked at his hand as if he was looking at that scar for the first time. “I guess it was. It healed, though, and I’m right as rain.” For a moment, their eyes met, and his expression gentled—almost like he cared about her. Then, just as suddenly, he stood up. “I…I am going to wash up now.”
Stunned, Katie watched him pick up his plate, set it near the counter, then walk away. Leaving her alone.
As she looked around the suddenly silent kitchen, Katie thought that perhaps her parents had been right. Perhaps her stay here would be a thankless one, indeed. The girls were not eager to get to know her. The house was empty and far too quiet. Winnie would be gone soon.
And Jonathan…Jonathan seemed wary around her. Watchful. Almost bashful?
Chapter 6
Brandon was sitting up in bed half watching television when Holly arrived at the hospital that afternoon. Pausing at the door, tears pricked her eyes. For once, Brandon looked almost like his usual self. It had been a rough week—there’d been a few times when neither the doctors nor the nurses thought he would last to the next day.
There were times when she wasn’t sure she’d be able to make it, especially since all the news was now increasingly dire. Holly was finding it hard to stay positive.
But of course, that was what he needed. “Hey, you,” she said when she finally walked through the doorway. “How does it feel to sit up in bed for a change?”
With effort, he turned her way. “Pretty good. So, are you ever going to actually come in? I’ve been watching you stand there for five minutes.”
“Sorry. My mind was wandering, I guess,” she murmured, walking toward him. After squeezing his shoulder, she pulled up her usual chair and sat down next to him. “So…are you feeling a little better?”
“Yeah. I think those new drugs are helping with the pain.”
His words told her everything she needed to know. He wasn’t healing. A miracle wasn’t about to take place. His prognosis wasn’t going to change. He just wasn’t feeling as bad as he usually did. “Oh. Good.”
Wanted Page 6