As he walked away, Megan felt a lump in her throat. How sweet. He was definitely not firing her. She booted her computer to search for a phone number for MDS at its headquarters in Lititz, Pennsylvania.
Before the office closed at five, Chance had set up three flights that would help with the Indiana tornado disaster. Two would carry MDS volunteers and a third would take in supplies that Paige was rounding up from their own donors. They had also arranged for a press team that would help promote Char Air. And by Friday, two more flights had been arranged. One carrying supplies was scheduled for Saturday, and Chance was going to pilot it.
“I wish you’d go along, Megan. It’s your people. And the invitation was given to everyone in the office. Since it’s a weekend flight, nobody sees this as a personal thing. It’s been a group effort.”
But Megan sensed that it was personal. She knew that Chance was motivated to help others, but he’d also made it personal by contacting MDS. He’d opened the door for her, given her a perfect opportunity to get involved, and she wanted to be on that Saturday flight. But she’d had to turn it down because of what was going to happen at her house over the weekend.
“I’d really like to go; it’s just that I have an obligation this weekend. I’m expected to do my part because other members of the congregation are coming to help. It wouldn’t look good, if all the family wasn’t there pitching in with the others.”
“But he’s not just your preacher. The congregation should do the work. He’ll be staying at your house, after all.”
“Yes, but it’s our property that’s getting remodeled. We will benefit from it in the long run, after Micah’s gone. It’s hard. They’re both good projects. But my dad always says God wants you to take care of your family and your own obligations first, and then you reach out generously to others.”
Chance arched his brow in disapproval. It sounded rather selfish in Megan’s own ears, something was missing from the way her dad always said it. “It’s like a circle. You start giving in the core, your family and church, and then it ripples outward.”
“That’s a different concept for me. My job puts me in direct contact with strangers, one on one, helping the least likely.”
“But you came to Ohio to help your brother.”
Chance shrugged in acquiescence.
“Now that we have this connection with MDS, I’m sure I’ll have other opportunities. But I’m glad that you get to take a plane up on Saturday. I know how you’ve been missing it. You must be excited.”
“I am, and it’s your loss, Megan. Just like the Aucas.”
Straightening her desk to leave for the day, she ignored his dig because she’d come to realize that he would say anything, no matter how hurtful, if he thought it would persuade her to act according to his wishes. “I admire what you’re doing for Char Air.” Picking up her purse, she asked, “Have you heard from Randy? How it’s going for him?”
“At this point, he still doesn’t know if his marriage is salvageable. Tina is bitter. They’re having a rough time of it. I hope for the boys’ sake that they don’t give up.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Have a good trip. I’ll see you on Monday.”
Chance watched Megan depart then went to his office and shut the door, sinking into his chair with frustration. The woman’s will was indomitable. An admirable trait when pressing through a jungle trail, not so excellent when she used it against his advances. Everything he had tried to win her over had failed. She was even becoming immune to his stories, had hardly flinched when he’d told her about the time that he’d spent the night in a tree fending off some crocodiles. And when he’d told her that the green anaconda could reach twenty-nine feet and weigh five hundred pounds and that they had eyes on the top of their heads so they could hunt submerged, she’d asked him if he thought they might be the leviathan sea monster mentioned in the Bible. He’d told her that he wasn’t making up some Loch Ness monster, that they were real and sometimes they even ate jaguars. But that hadn’t impressed her, either. She’d shaken her head as if she didn’t believe him.
It was driving him bananas, and he couldn’t get her out of his mind. She’d ruined him now because he didn’t even look forward to returning to Ecuador if he had to return without her.
He’d gotten so used to her assistance, her companionship, her sunny smile, and especially her throaty accent. And even though she kept rejecting his overtures, he knew that she possessed a heart that yearned for adventure. He was the man to help her with that.
Chance spent more hours than he cared to admit daydreaming about her being beside him as he flew the sick to Hospital Vozandeson, befriending the missionaries that he transported, making his hovel a home. He could envision her grabbing hold of that life. She’d be wonderful in the field.
If only her family hadn’t been occupied with their renovations for that preacher candidate, he was sure she would have gone with him on Saturday. The trip involved her people. And once he got her up in the air and she experienced the satisfaction that came from helping others and the camaraderie of working together, she would understand what motivated him. Realize that he was the man for her. How could anyone recognize the call and not give in to it? It was the fuel in his veins. And he believed that Megan had the same desire for the adventuresome yet simple and practical lifestyle.
Chance had always done what he thought was right. He’d helped his country, and now he was helping others. Surely God had fashioned Megan just for him. Although he’d been a bit of a womanizer, he’d settled down some. He even saw God’s sense of humor in handpicking a little Mennonite maiden, prim and proper. But he loved the idea. He didn’t care if she wore that net cap. Missionaries came in all flavors. Nothing seemed peculiar in the field where the cosmetics were most often left behind, anyway. In the field, things got real. He was willing to let her keep her identify. He just needed to prove himself to her.
He picked up his stapler, felt the instrument’s prickly edge. And if he was willing to accept her, then surely she’d accept him even though they had a few minor differences. Well, major. Especially the one he’d been hiding. Ever since she told him that Mennonites were nonresistant, he’d done some research. He’d discovered that they were adamant against war. If Megan knew that he’d been a fighter pilot, he wouldn’t stand a chance with her. If she knew about that mission that earned him a medal, it would be over. That’s why he hadn’t told her. That was better left concealed until the past was so far behind them that it didn’t matter.
But the hourglass was losing sand. If she didn’t spend time with him soon, she’d never see his heart, and if she didn’t understand his motivations, she would never give him a chance. He replaced the stapler and pulled the red marker out of his drawer. He drew a big red x over the day’s date. Only now, he wasn’t marking off the time from boredom, but from worrying about the remaining days. So little time was left.
CHAPTER 14
At 6:00 a.m. the sound of Jake Byler’s hammer resounded through the air, and the workday began. As Megan set up the coffee table near her dad’s shop, she quietly observed the man who had captured her friend Katy’s heart, long before Katy had even been old enough to date. The way he handled his tools made them appear to be an extension of his body, all performing together like a well-oiled machine.
“Katy said to tell you that she’ll be over after Jacob’s breakfast.”
“Good. Help yourself to some coffee, and tell the others.”
Dad passed by her with a two-by-four slung over his shoulder. “I’m too old for this.” He grinned.
“Hardly,” Megan replied. “But you might be sore tomorrow.”
“Mark’s here,” Dad told Jake.
Mark Kraybill worked for Jake in the carpentry business. He had a wife and a young son. Megan watched him get out of his truck and don his tool bag. Next he grabbed a tray and headed toward her. “Lanie didn’t think she’d be much use today, with running after the baby, but she sent these.”
Megan’s sweet t
ooth drooled as she carried the tray of pastries laden with thick penuche frosting. As she placed them beside the coffee, her mom pointed at the sky.
“I don’t like the looks of this.”
“You think we should set up the coffee inside?”
“Nobody will quit their work to come inside the house for breakfast, especially if rain cuts them off from the house.”
Megan glanced toward Dad’s shop. But they’d already discussed that option and decided there wasn’t enough room inside it to set up the food table.
“No. I don’t think it will rain that soon. But from what I understand, lots of donations and furniture will be arriving. We can’t just set them around on the lawn and let them get ruined.”
“But Dad’s got a car inside, and you know how fussy he is about people getting too close to his cars.”
“Bill!” Mom called as he made another pass with some lumber. “We need to talk.”
“Let me take this to Jake. I’ll be right back.” But Mom trailed him to the shop’s open garage door. He laid the lumber on top of a growing pile. “Something wrong?”
“It’s going to rain. My arthritis is acting up. I’m sure of it.”
Dad sighed, looked around his shop, his gaze lingering over Chuck Benedict’s Nova. While Dad worked on various models at a Chevrolet dealership, on the side he restored only Novas. It was something he did for fun. “I don’t like the idea of parking Chuck’s car out front. I promised him it would always be protected inside. Anyway, we’re going to need our entire driveway for parking.” Torn, he looked at the Nova with concern. “It’s Chuck’s pride and joy, Anita.”
“It’s drivable?” Megan asked.
Dad nodded.
“Let’s take it over to the doddy house. Lil and Fletch are gone, and the Millers have that new carport. It’s big enough, and I’m sure they won’t mind.”
“All right. Let me get a car cover, too. Anita, tell Jake I’ll be right back. Megan, run me over?”
“Sure, Dad.”
By the time they had returned from the doddy house, Dad’s shop looked like one of those garage sales Mom loved, or even a mini relief sale that the Mennonites were always holding. This one would contain mechanic tools and country furnishings. Mom gave Dad a quick hug, assuring him they had done the right thing.
“This is a lot of stuff,” Megan said with disbelief. “And it’s still early. Don’t you think we should leave Micah some space for his own belongings? His room’s not very big. If he’s going to be here for three months, won’t he bring his own things?”
“He’ll just have to make do. There’s no telling what he’ll need. We can’t turn down some donations and not others.”
“But he owns a house. His grandmother’s house, where he’s lived for years. Surely he has everything he’ll need. And he’s driving so he can bring his own stuff.”
“But everybody wants to chip in, so …” Mom shrugged. “Wait and see. It will work out.”
“I guess.” Megan wasn’t sure why she was objecting to the congregation’s generosity. She lowered her voice. “But what about afterward? Will we keep all this stuff?”
Once again, Mom shrugged. “Look. There’s Katy. Why don’t you bring her inside, and we’ll start working on lunch? Yesterday Rose Landis brought over a pork roast, and I need to get it into the oven. The men will be hungry by noon.”
Megan helped Katy get Jacob out of the car.
“I think the little outside apartment is a great idea.” Katy grabbed her diaper bag. “Are your folks doing that because of, you know?”
Megan nodded. “I’m embarrassed. I’m sure I overreacted. From what I could tell while he was here, Micah’s not as awful as I remembered him.”
Katy chuckled. “I hope not. He’s going to be our preacher. When he preached the other Sunday, I couldn’t figure out why you called him Stick Man. He’s not much thinner than Jake.” She tilted her head. “Probably taller though.”
Megan felt her cheeks heat. “He’s put on weight since college.”
“I think you’re off the hook anyway, because from what I heard, it was Joy Ann Beitzel’s dad who insisted the committee give him a chance instead of going down the list to the next candidate.”
“But Barry Beitzel’s not even on the committee. How did he know that the other candidate had backed out?”
“Because Joy Ann’s the church secretary. And without a preacher, she’s handling some of the paperwork for the committee.”
“That’s right. She told me she thought he was cute, but that takes some nerve to get her dad to go to the committee and make a request like that.”
“Exactly. But from what I hear, she’s not the only one interested in your castoff.”
“Shh!” Megan reached for Jacob. “Watch what you say.” Katy handed her the baby and lowered her voice. “He’s got the attention of every other single woman in the congregation.”
“Even after his allergy attack?”
“Yep. So like I said, you’re off the hook.”
“I have a feeling things are going to get interesting around here.”
Before Katy left for little Jacob’s nap, Jake and a few helpers had installed a door that would keep the shop’s gas fumes out of the new room. They also erected some walls: one partitioned off a bathroom, and one formed a closet. The carpenters had even cut a hole in an exterior wall for a new window. They’d sent one of the men to purchase a window after Jake claimed they needed to be up to code, since there was no exterior door. The fire that broke out in the fellowship hall a few years earlier was still fresh on everybody’s mind.
Megan stood at Katy’s car. “That window was a good idea. It makes it more like a home. You gotta be proud of Jake.”
Katy winked. “More than proud. Can you believe that Jake’s general contractor, who doesn’t even go to church, donated the insulation and dry wall?”
“He must think a lot of Jake.” Megan looked at the sky. “You’d better scat before the storm hits.”
Afterward Megan didn’t think Katy could have made it home in time, because soon after her departure, the sky opened and the clouds dumped their rain. The yard became soup, and everybody started looking like wet noodles. Especially the women. Susanna burst into the house all aghast and shaking the rain off her clothing while deeming Megan her messenger and errand girl.
Sometime during the day, Mom started calling the new room the blue cottage, and it caught on. At first Megan figured it had something to do with her dad’s nickname. But when Susanna sent her out into the storm to find a man to move Mom’s sewing machine into the living room, Megan got her first look at the brightly colored walls. The hideous blue paint was leftover from Leon Beachy’s latest job. He had admitted, sheepishly, that after he’d bought the paint and done a three-foot wall sample, the customer had changed their mind. He’d laughed, saying he hoped it didn’t make the preacher change his mind, too. But it was free. Megan was learning a lot about accepting donations with a grateful heart.
Besides Mom’s sewing machine, the quilters brought portable ones that Leon Beachy toted through the storm and set up in the Weavers’ living room.
Susanna seemed pleased. She tilted her pretty face with its beak-shaped nose. “Now Megan, don’t you just love this material? We’re gonna make Brother Zimmerman’s curtains. It’s the fabric we bought the day that Barbara went with us, the day Brother Troyer passed away in the bean patch. Don’t you think that’s fitting?”
Megan thought it more ironic than fitting. “It’s very nice. I’ll just go after that thread you need.”
By the end of the afternoon, Susanna had frustrated everyone with her flapping, controlling ways, and Megan vowed never to become a quilter. Susanna had even aggravated Jake when she’d made him lower the curtain rod an inch and a half after he’d used a tape and level.
The singles had shown up and were mostly underfoot as Megan tried to keep everybody happy. Lori Longacre, the librarian with the cute mole on her nose, had
brought a few books that she thought would add a welcoming touch. There was personal flowery stationery with it.
“Just a note that explains when the books need to be returned to the library,” Lori insisted.
But when Lori took her umbrella and headed outside to see the blue cottage, Megan sneaked a look inside the pretty folded stationery:
I hope I can help you, when it comes to reading material and research books for your sermons. I’m friends with the Plain City librarian, too. Just give me a topic, and I’ll be happy to give you a hand. Really, it’s no trouble. I look forward to it. Here’s my phone number.
“Denim’s on sale at the discount fabric store.”
Megan jerked her hand away from the stationery and wheeled around. Ruthie Ropp stood watching her. “It is?”
Ruthie eyed her curiously. “Yes. At $3.99 a yard, that’s a steal.”
“Maybe you should tell Barbara.”
“I’ll do that.” Ruthie left, but she gave Megan a look that let her know she’d caught her reading Lori’s note. Ruthie was an expert on denim, owned an entire wardrobe of jean skirts made from the same pattern. She used her sewing expertise to make each one appear a little different. Ruthie had brought a hand-sewn comforter for the preacher’s twin bed.
Back at the sewing machines, Ruthie joked that it was out of her hope chest, but since there wasn’t much hope left in it, she was ready to part with it.
But Ruthie’s friend Joy Ann, the church secretary who was ultimately responsible for Micah’s internship, scoffed, “You couldn’t get the lid closed on your hope chest anymore. Now that you’re such an expert seamstress, you wanted to replace some of the older stuff with new.”
Ruthie met Joy Ann’s gaze with defiance. “I wouldn’t dream of giving the preacher an inferior item.”
But all three of the singles had been able to agree on one important factor. They’d been adamant about the need to put a small refrigerator in the preacher’s apartment.
At first Mom objected, claiming he’d be welcome to join them at their family meals. That had agitated the singles, giving Megan her first real indication that she’d need to be very careful not to provoke jealousy. They already assumed she’d have certain privileges that they didn’t share.
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