Carly left the room, her heart weighed down with resentment.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Hoping to cheer up Martha, Carly grabbed the newspaper, but Miranda intercepted her. “Harry lost his teeth again.”
“Oh, no. Did you check the trash?”
“His or everybody’s?”
Carly placed the New Era on the recreational table and glanced toward the hall. “I’d start with his room. Next Kelly’s room. Check her mouth. Then work your way down the hall searching all the trash cans. If they didn’t get tossed out, we may come across them before we have to call his son again.”
Martha had been eavesdropping. She interjected, “Harry’s son’s not going to be happy if he has to buy another pair. This will make the third time this year.”
Miranda nodded and left them. Unfolding the newspaper and giving one section to Martha, Carly skimmed for topics of interest. “Last weekend was the Covered Bridge Festival in Cottage Grove. Have you ever attended?”
“Oh sure. Who hasn’t? That town’s so quaint with all its murals.”
“I know. Says here it was held at Bohemia Park and there were fiddlers, Ukranian dancers, bluegrass music, a historic auto parade, a timber competition, postage stamp collection, wine tasting, a pumpkin catapult, and kids activities. Goodness, I think it must get bigger every year.”
“Pity’s sake. A pumpkin catapult? Can you imagine the mess that made? What are people thinking?”
Carly laughed. “Anything to draw a crowd.”
“In my opinion the best thing about covered bridges happens without a crowd.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know. The kissing.”
Widow Martha slipped back in time to the summer she’d turned sixteen. Her heart beat rapidly as she remembered how she’d met her first love. She’d leaned over the bridge and dared to speak to the handsome Englísh boy flirting with her.
“No, I don’t want to bait your hook.”
His warm laughter compelled her to stay, even though she knew it was wrong.
“Wait. I’m coming up.” He laid aside the pole.
Her heart raced. She was crazy to wait for him but couldn’t make her feet move.
Panting, the tall blond leaned against the bridge and studied her. “You Amish?”
“No. Mennonite.”
“You got a boyfriend?”
John Struder’s image popped into her mind, but they weren’t really committed to each other. “No, why?”
“Wondering if I should bother to teach you to fish.”
Martha grinned. “Well I’m a quick learner.” He grabbed her hand and led her to the bank. She looked at the rugged path down the steep embankment.
He laughed that infectious laugh of his. “Don’t worry. I got you.”
His muscular build supported his words. She recalled the thrill of his hand.
“Martha?” Smoothing the article, Carly shook her head. “Doesn’t say anything about a kissing booth.”
Martha sighed with impatience. “I’m not talking about the festival. When I was young, it was a place to go with your sweetheart.”
Dropping the paper in her lap, Carly asked, “You ever do that?”
Quiet for a long, reflective moment, Martha nodded. “I sure did. I had a secret boyfriend. We used to meet there.”
“How old were you?”
Her voice carried a loose asthmatic-rattle as she replied, “Sixteen. Seems like forever and also like yesterday. I can still see him. Tall. Handsome. Blond.”
Leaning forward, Carly asked, “Why was he a secret boyfriend?”
She wheezed, “Because I was Mennonite and he wasn’t. It would’ve been forbidden.” Martha smiled. “He was my first love. We even carved our initials on the bridge.”
Entranced, Carly probed, “How’d you meet?”
“I was walking one day and ended up at the bridge. He was fishing. He introduced himself. We had a good time that day. After that, I headed out there as often as I could. Guess he did the same thing, ’cause we met again. Pretty soon we were planning to meet.”
“How long did this go on?”
“That whole summer. My friend Ruth Stucky sure was jealous.” Martha’s face saddened. “Until he went off to war. Then I never saw him again. I always wondered if he made it back.”
“Were you heartbroken?”
Martha nodded. Though time-wrinkled and framed in gray, her face was still touched by emotions from years earlier. “After that, the bridge was the loneliest place to go. I wanted to stay away. But I kept thinking I might meet him again. I had to keep trying. Mostly I got over him. But I did go back one more time. Stared at that big old tree where I had my first kiss. It was the week before I got married.”
Riveted, Carly’s eyes misted. “You must have loved him.”
Martha adjusted her glasses on the bridge of her nose. “I did. But he wasn’t there, so I married John.”
“Were you happily married?”
She sniffed, then used her inhaler. “You know I was. I talk about John all the time. He was the best man a woman could ever have.” She hardened her voice and snapped, “The other relationship never would’ve worked. And now I have such a nice family. Until they put me in this place. Now they forget I exist. Helen doesn’t even remember I’m going to be eighty-five.”
At least the distraction had worked for a while.
Martha continued, “Don’t you think that’s a big birthday? Kinda like a fiftieth wedding anniversary? I don’t know how many times I’ve mentioned it, but Helen hasn’t said anything about celebrating or even asked me what I wanted.”
“What do you want?”
“A cake, for one thing!” Martha’s chest rose and fell laboriously.
“When is it?”
“December 12,” she wheezed.
Carly tried to calm the asthmatic woman. “There’s still plenty of time.”
“Not so long if you want to plan something.”
“I’ll bake you a cake.”
“Do you bake?”
Carly laughed. “Of course. Not very often, since I live alone. But I can.”
“Well I sure don’t want no burned cake for my birthday. But you could order one from that cute little bakery in Halsey.”
“If that’s what you want.”
“Well good. I’ll tell Helen. Maybe it’ll make her jealous and she’ll get on the ball.”
“We found them,” Miranda called, approaching them.
“Where?” Martha demanded.
“When I checked his room, I saw leftovers from last night’s supper in his teeth container in the bathroom. That made me wonder if he put his teeth in that little plastic container he keeps in his refrigerator. You know, got them switched. Sure enough. There they were.”
“Pity’s sake,” Martha exclaimed. “That actually makes sense.”
Carly asked. “Does he have them in now?”
“Yes, I helped him. I’m off to sterilize his teeth container now.” She waved the little plastic butter dish he used.
“Good thinking,” Carly said. Once Miranda left, she patted Martha’s hand. “I don’t think you need to worry about your birthday. You’re going to be celebrating many more. Now ninety, that would be one worth celebrating.”
“You just make sure that cake is chocolate, you hear?”
“Okay. I gotta go make some rounds now. Why don’t you finish up the paper, and if you come across anything juicy, we’ll discuss it after lunch.”
“It’ll be old news by then,” Martha snapped.
“Better than no news. I’m glad I have you to keep me up on things.”
“I know one thing I won’t be reporting.”
“What’s that?”
“Any stocking sales. My finger’s still sore.”
Carly grew concerned. “Let me see.”
“No.” Martha shoved her hands beneath the table.
“I’m sorry that happened.”
“I know, I shouldn�
��t have brought it up. But I’m still not telling you about any stocking sales.”
Biting back a smile, Carly went to look up a chart and missed a step when she glanced back at Martha. Her head was downcast and her cheek was wet.
On Thursday after her shift, Carly went to the woodworking shop to catch Adam before he left the center. She needed a lift, but mostly she was excited about her new idea. He was expert-extraordinaire at pointing out the negatives so she could make a clear-headed choice. Passing the goldfish pond, she heard a familiar hum rise above the splashing water feature. Stepping to the side of the sidewalk she waited.
A red scooter puttered up next to her carrying a thin, wiry man with a holstered gun.
“Hi, Aesop. How’s it going?” Carly didn’t know his real name. He liked to be up front with his speech impediment to set people at ease. The first time they’d met, he’d told her his wife dubbed him Aesop because of his stammer.
“Not—not very good. I think I made a mistake when I broke up a fight between the Masts and the Yoders.”
She tilted her head, wondering what had transpired. Aesop was sensitive for a security guard. “That sounds like a necessary thing.”
“You—you know how the Masts always let their little chi—chi—chihuahua dog run loose, and he pees on the Yoders’ bushes, and the neighbors… they—they stand in the yard and argue. So I told the Masts they could lose their little guy if they didn’t keep him on a leash.”
He referred to a pair of neighbors who resided in independent-living homes. Although she worked in assisted living, the center was small enough that she knew many of the residents in independent living. She’d heard of the little dog that barked and snapped, and the Masts had been warned to keep their feisty pet on a leash. “That’s true. And they should know better by now.”
“But—but you should’ve seen… saw the daggers they gave the Yoders. I’m afraid I made them enemies… bitter enemies.”
“Why don’t you write up a report and ask for some mediation sessions.”
“Good—good idea. That’s—that’s what I’ll do.”
“But don’t feel bad. You’re not trained in that area. You did the right thing telling them the rules and sending them on their way.”
“I hope so. You—you leaving?”
“Yes.”
“Be careful. I—I worry about you.” The scooter purred away.
Carly continued briskly toward the woodworking shop. She only had to move aside three more times—once for a wheelchair and twice for walkers—before she arrived. She popped her head inside the shop’s open door. “Hello!”
“Hey.” Adam motioned with a grin.
She smiled back. “Can I hitch a ride with you?”
The tan, virile woodworker leaned on a push broom. “Sure. I’m almost finished.”
Tearing her eyes away from his toned physique, she explained, “My fall into the blackberry bushes had repercussions. Rocco replaced a tire earlier. But now the other one went flat.”
“You ever get all the stickers out of your dress?”
“Jah. Of course.” She ignored his teasing and remained thoughtfully quiet while he closed shop. As they drove through Sweet Home, he brought up the meeting. “Did the board approve your idea?”
“Jah.”
“They did?” She could hear the surprise in his voice. “That’s good.”
They passed the library and approached Sankey Park. The cottages on the residential streets at the top of the hill displayed an array of colorful pastels. Carly had fallen in love with the yellow one at first sight. Only this afternoon, she wasn’t focused on the picturesque. “But Simon took it away from me. He put Sherie in charge of the program.”
Adam’s chiseled jaw flinched. “That’s gotta hurt.” His eyes softened. “I’m sorry.”
She shrugged. “It’s getting easier. At least they passed it. It’s going to do good things for the center.”
“I suppose.”
“Actually the last couple of days my mind is turning over a new idea.”
He grimaced.
She’d seen that expression too many times before to be dissuaded. “Martha told me the most romantic story the other day about the boy she met when she was sixteen. They were forbidden, so they snuck out and met on an old covered bridge.” Her voice turned wistful. “All summer long. They fell in love, and then he went to war, and she never heard from him again.”
He scowled. “That’s sad. But what can you do about it?”
“Her daughter’s giving her a surprise birthday party because she’s turning eight-five. Martha’s been depressed lately. After she told me that story, I saw her crying. What if I—”
“No.” He pulled the truck into her drive. “You don’t want to get involved with that.”
Irritated that he hadn’t even allowed her to finish explaining her idea, she argued, “What harm can it do to find out if he made it back from the war? I think she’s sad because she doesn’t think he did.”
Adam turned off the engine, and his face became a dark thunderstorm. “What harm? Because if you find out he’s alive, you won’t let it stop there. After that, you’ll be trying to matchmake.”
“Jah! Wouldn’t that make the best birthday surprise ever?”
He shook his head. “You have a tendency to see the rosy side of things. You forget that matchmakers usually stir up more trouble than they can handle.”
She arched a blond brow. “And you’re the love expert?”
“Are you?”
Frustrated, she got out of the truck. Before she closed the door, however, she looked into his turbulent eyes. “I thought we understood each other. That night at your party… I got a glimpse of the real you. Guess I was wrong.”
“Wait right there.” He jumped out and came around to her side of the truck. “It’s not fair to get mad just because I bring up a couple what ifs.” His voice softened. “You’re right. Things are changing between us.”
Breathless at the sudden change in the virile man facing her, she said, “Okay, I’m listening.”
He gave her a flirty grin. “I’m getting attached to you. Want to protect you.”
“Jimmy asked you to protect me.”
A touch on her arm sent hot lava flowing through her veins. His voice rumbled, “These aren’t brotherly feelings.”
She rubbed her tingling arm. “What then?”
His eyes narrowed, settled on her mouth. “Feelings that should wait until I have a few major things sorted out in my life.”
She swallowed. “Fair enough.” Better than falling in love first. Like last time. She didn’t want that to happen again.
Then his mouth quirked. “Though another kiss might help me sort things out quicker.”
“Kissing should wait. Until you know what you want.”
He studied her curiously. “So you ready to listen to my what-ifs?”
With a sigh, she crossed her arms and listened to him count off his reasons.
“One, digging up the past exposes secrets that hurt people. Two, it wouldn’t be easy to dig up the old rascal. Especially if he’s dead. Even if he didn’t die in the war, at their age he most likely is deceased.”
“What a horrible thing to say.”
“I know. But I’m not finished. Three, what if they fall in love again and her family objects? And four”—he touched her cheek—“how do you get that dimple to do that?”
She pushed his hand away. “You’re a burr.”
“You would know about stickers.”
“Exactly.”
“What happened to ‘Adam, you’re such a godsend’? Speaking of, do you need a ride tomorrow?”
“No Rocco’s dropping my bike off later tonight.”
With a nod, he closed her truck door. “Later then. I know you’ll do the right thing.”
CHAPTER NINE
Carly thrust her gloved fingers into the soil and pulled out a thistle. As she worked, she thought about Adam’s warning and Martha’s
newest outburst. She’d been playing bingo with Dot Miller—the old friends once enjoyed an ongoing, hearty competition. Only with Dot’s growing dementia, Martha was easing up on the friendly jabs. But today, she’d gotten angry when Dot won. She’d snapped, “You have a canary and a loving husband. Do you have to win, too?”
“You want a canary?” Dot had asked Martha. “I’ll have Crusher get you one.”
Carly had quickly intervened. They couldn’t have an entire ward of canaries. She’d worked hard to get the staff to make an exception for Dot’s. But Martha’s depression had to be deepening for her to turn on the friend she most dearly loved. Now Carly was torn between Adam’s advice and her desire to improve Martha’s state of mind.
Nearby, Cocoa nibbled at ferns that clustered around the porch. The fatso hardly needed nourishment. Thankfully, her pet didn’t favor the pink coneflowers which made such a striking show against Carly’s yellow cottage. She didn’t mind a little grazing, but Imogene across the street would. While her neighbor adored Cocoa, she loved her garden more.
Suddenly Cocoa went on alert, arranging his unicorn-lop ears to catch sound. Soon Carly heard a familiar rumble. “Jimmy’s back!” She started toward the truck, with Cocoa hopping behind.
Jimmy jumped out of his truck and gave her a quick hug. “Brought you some sticks for that crazy dog of yours.” He opened the bed and carried armfuls to a stockpile behind the cottage. As he worked, he kept an eye out for Cocoa, who hopped about his feet, nose twitching.
“Thanks. My supply was getting low. I’m taking a ride tomorrow. It’s Saturday, so I thought I’d join that bike bridge tour.”
He let out a whistle. “That’s a long ride. And the weather report isn’t good for tomorrow. You could get into trouble.”
“Really?” she replied, disappointed.
“I’d take you, but they’re sending me right back out on the road.”
“I wish you didn’t have to be gone so much.”
“I asked for this gig. I haven’t been to the Dakotas yet.” His gaze softened with yearning. “Wish I could take you along.”
“Sometime I’ll take a few vacation days.”
“You’ve been promising that for a long time.”
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