Mom insisted, “I always cook anyways, and I don’t intend to banish Brother Micah from the house.”
Megan gave her mom the gentle elbow, their signal that Mom was missing something.
She let it go. “I suppose you’re right. Folks will want to gift the preacher with food to show their hospitality. I shouldn’t be the only one who gets the pleasure of cooking for him.” Later she whispered to Megan, “From the looks of things, it’s good you didn’t set your cap for the preacher. Not that you wouldn’t stand a chance, but because you might lose a few friends.”
Although watching the singles had been amusing, Megan knew her mom was joking, stretching the matter out of proportion. There was no way that Micah could initiate such a stir. “That’s the least of your worries, Mom.”
“I don’t know. He’s a good catch.”
Megan glanced at her mom skeptically. “But you hardly know him.”
“Maybe not, but I know men like him. Good men.”
The singles agreed with Mom because once they were gone, Ruthie’s dad returned with a tiny used refrigerator strapped in the bed of his 1980 Ford truck. It almost made Megan feel sorry for Micah. When a girl’s dad got involved—But Megan broke off her thought. Maybe Micah would be open to the local girls. Maybe he’d be ready to settle down and take a wife. It would be interesting to watch, only she had this awful feeling that just like Susanna was moving in on Barbara, the singles were going to move in on her space. They’d want to include Megan in their circle so that they could find out more about Micah, even control her a bit. And while Megan sat with them in church, she wasn’t ready to officially join the group.
At the end of the day when Megan and her parents stood and looked over the work, they were satisfied. The blue cottage was packed with furniture and extra linens and toiletries. Noah Maust, the professor, had furnished a desk and a lamp.
“I guess it’s the Lord’s room now,” Dad said.
Mom sighed. “It’s exciting to think about the guests He might send our way.”
Megan glanced at her dad. “It’s still your room, too.”
“I know. I’m all right with it. It was my idea.” He smiled. “I guess if the Lord sees fit to keep it filled with guests, to give it another purpose, then maybe I’ll have to add on the back of the shop.”
Mom smiled. “Yes, you can always do that, honey. There’s leftover cake inside that Inez Beachy sent. Anyone hungry?”
“I’m always hungry.” Dad moved to shut off the professor’s lamp.
CHAPTER 15
He’s here!” Mom exclaimed just before the sound of cracking gravel wafted through the open living room window.
Megan set her Christian novel aside on the garage-sale coffee table and followed her mom to the window, keeping discreetly to the shadows of the opened drapery.
The grandfather clock, one of Dad’s family heirlooms, chimed twice, and he chuckled. “Good. He’s punctual. When I called to tell him about the blue cottage and its furnishings, he calculated that he’d arrive mid-afternoon.
But Mom wasn’t listening to him. She’d already opened the screen door and stepped onto the front porch.
“She’s in her heights of glory,” Dad told Megan with a chuckle. “Loves to entertain.”
Megan and her dad followed Mom outside, where the tall, lanky guest was unfolding himself from a dark blue Honda Civic. She exchanged a smile with Dad, who appreciated the irony of such a big man in a small car. That was probably a strike against him in Dad’s estimation, but then Micah had surely gained it back when he’d gotten the color right.
Micah’s eyes looked a tad road weary, yet radiant. Excited. And Megan felt a tug of happiness for him and his adventure. She believed her mom was feeling the thrill of his adventure, too. Mom gave him a hug, and Megan watched Micah’s forearm harden when Dad grasped his hand and cranked it like a wrench.
“Hi.” Megan stood back, keeping her hands to her side, and gave him a warm smile.
He held her smile a moment with a matching one. “I can’t wait to see the little cottage.”
“We call it the blue cottage. You’ll soon see why. Come.” Mom motioned.
“I should get Miss Purrty out of the car first.” Micah’s voice trailed off as if speaking to himself. “I hope she doesn’t take a notion to run away.”
Many things ran through Megan’s mind, and she was positive her parents were just as surprised and confused to discover that Micah had a Miss Purrty with him. The three of them instinctively backed away from the car as Micah strode around the back and lifted the hatchback. With a few grunts and some shuffling of belongings, he soon backed out, holding a small, gray animal crate in his hand.
Curious, Megan tried without success to see through the air slats. Micah turned, looking sheepish. “I didn’t have any place to keep her. I inherited her. She was my grandmother’s favorite cat.” Though his face reddened slightly, his voice never wavered, giving the impression that the cat was not an option.
The look on Mom’s face indicated that she hoped the cat would wander off and get lost. Mom was pretty persnickety with keeping the house and yard clean. They’d never had any pets, mostly because of Megan’s allergies. But now Megan was thankful they’d fixed up the room for the new preacher, because honestly, the last thing she needed in the house was a cat. Of all things.
She wouldn’t bring up her objections, though, because she sensed that her parents both harbored plenty of their own. Dad didn’t like cats because they jumped up on cars and scratched the paint. And he was into restoring, not scratching. She cast him a tentative glance and saw his eyes widening in undisguised disapproval.
She was sure that Micah saw it, too, because she caught a glimpse of the preacher’s doggedness that he had employed so readily at college. Something in the set of his chin and the way he straightened his shoulders. “Go ahead. Lead the way.” His voice was set in defiance, as if there wasn’t anything unusual about showing up with an uninvited pet. The way he urged them to lead the way made it sound as if he was inviting them to join him on his great adventure.
When nobody moved, Megan stepped forward. “This way. It’s attached to the shop, but you have to go inside the shop to get to it.” She found herself babbling, trying to cover the noise of her mom whispering to her dad, most likely trying to calm him from the terrible news that a cat would be prowling around in his sacred shop.
But when she ran out of small talk, her dad’s comment was easily heard. “I wonder if Barbara likes cats?”
“Who’s Barbara?” Micah whispered through the side of his mouth.
“Brother Troyer’s widow,” Megan replied.
She saw Micah’s shoulders grow more rigid, but he didn’t back down, just kept carrying his grandma’s cat toward the cottage. Somehow Megan knew that once that carrier was inside the blue cottage, they’d all be bested. There’d be no way Micah was going to budge.
When they reached the shop, Dad riffled through his pockets and came out with a key. “You’ll need this. I made an extra. Here’s a church key, too.” It also worked the lock of a side door, several feet from the overhead garage door that worked with an automatic opener. “Sorry, but there probably won’t be any room inside for your car.”
“That’s not a problem,” Micah assured him, accepting the keys and placing them in his pants pocket, while with the other hand, he clamped tight to the pet carrier’s handle.
Dad opened the door for them and flipped the switch. A blast of overhead light from the rows of fluorescents filled the room.
“Too bad we don’t have a dimmer light of some sort for Micah to use before he gets to his cottage. That could be quite startling at night,” Mom noted.
Dad sent her an undeniable dirty look, obviously having reached his limits. “It hasn’t blinded me yet.”
“It’s just temporary,” Micah quickly reminded Mom.
She gave a reluctant nod and motioned him to enter the room first.
The moment Micah
stepped into the blue room, his face lit with delight. Then a low chuckle rumbled his throat. “Now I know why you call it the blue cottage.”
“Leon Beachy’s a painter by trade,” Megan explained. “He showed up with the paint. Said it’s called Something Blue. I’m not sure what the something stands for, ’cause I can’t think of another thing this color. Hopefully, you can get used to it.”
“Actually, it’s perfect. It will keep me awake when I need to work on my sermons.” Micah placed the crate in the middle of the room. The cat had yet to make a sound or make any kind of an appearance. But Megan thought she caught a glimpse of yellow. Then he turned and gripped Dad’s arm. “I won’t forget your kindness. I’ll do my best to be a good neighbor.”
“I’m sure you will,” Dad replied, the annoyance already gone from his voice, and his natural good humor returning. “I hope you can work us up some good sermons in here. I, for one, need them.”
Megan saw Dad relax a bit and held her breath, wondering if he was going to let Micah get away without setting some boundaries for the cat. Wondering if she should forewarn Micah if he didn’t.
“Are you hungry or thirsty?” Mom asked. She also had let go of any irritation toward the cat. “There’s some iced tea in your little refrigerator. We expect you to take your meals with us, but the congregation insisted you own a refrigerator so that they could gift you with food, too. I told you that you’d never go hungry.”
Micah glanced at the little white frig and the tray of dishes and glasses on top of it. “I remember. I picked up a water bottle in Plain City, though, so I’m fine. I’d like to get the unpacking done and then spend some time on tomorrow’s sermon.”
“Of course. We’ll help you bring things in from the car,” she insisted.
At the Honda, he handed some clothing to Mom and a taped cardboard box to Dad. As soon as they were out of earshot, he turned to Megan. “Can you do me a favor?”
“Sure.”
“There’s a leash on top of Miss Purrty’s cage. Can you attach it to her collar and walk her out back some place away from your parents? I don’t think I can let her loose yet, and she probably needs to, you know.”
Megan stifled her surprise that he’d drawn her into his predicament as an accomplice again. So quickly, he depended on her. Only, she was allergic to cats. Actually, she couldn’t believe that Micah wasn’t also. But she saw a glint of desperation in his eyes and agreed, this one time. “She won’t scratch me then?”
“She’s really old. You’ll be fine.”
Megan grabbed some dress shirts on hangers, feeling a little strange to be carrying his personal items, and headed back to the blue cottage. Micah followed her with what appeared to be a small, wheeled file cabinet. It didn’t roll in the gravel, and he ended up carrying the awkward piece. Inside the blue cottage, she fiddled with the clothes in his closet until her parents left to get another armful from the car.
Quickly, she attached the leash to Miss Purrty’s collar. She’d never seen a cat walked on a leash before. She soon discovered she wouldn’t see it then, either, because the large golden cat balked the moment she got her freedom. Miss Purrty gave a soft hiss and lay down, whipping her tail from side to side.
“Oh, no you don’t, missy.” Megan gave the leash a tug. The cat gave a sharp mew and looked at her through dark-slit pupils but didn’t move. With a sigh, she petted the cat on the head, scratched behind the ears long enough to make friends, then scooped Miss Purrty up and made a dash through the shop toward the back of the property.
Megan looked around their property, figuring the cat would need a place to dig and bury. She didn’t want to train her to dig up her mom’s flower beds or small vegetable garden. She decided for the old buckeye tree. Nothing grew beneath it except weeds and mushrooms. It was the only bad spot on the property. Mom couldn’t even get bulbs to live under that tree.
Megan set Miss Purrty down, and the old cat arched her back and stretched; then in her own timing, Miss Purrty started to sniff and explore. She turned and batted at the leash once, then made the right decision to just ignore it. By the time the cat was finished, Megan had determined that Miss Purrty no longer possessed good digging skills and hoped Micah would clean up after her. Suddenly the cat loped back toward the shop. Pulling against the leash, she continued past the shop toward Micah. Since Megan didn’t want to break the cat’s neck or get scratched trying to pick her up again, she allowed the behavior.
Micah stopped, and Miss Purrty leaned against his legs, weaving in and out and mewing. He reached down and tickled the white fluff of her neck. “Thanks. If you don’t mind, just put her back in her crate for now.”
Megan nodded and took the pacified cat, who stared at her with green eyes. By the time she had finished her task, the last of Micah’s belongings had been deposited inside the room.
“Well,” Mom said with satisfaction, “supper will be at six. Just come on up to the house when you’re ready.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m grilling hamburgers, and Anita makes a fierce potato salad,” Dad said, giving Mom an appreciate gaze.
“Great.”
And then Megan began her sneezing spree. She gave a little wave and joined her parents, brushing cat hair off her blouse as she went.
“Whew.” Micah blew out a relieved sigh. “That was tense.” He released Miss Purrty from her crate. She walked stiffly and held her head as if miffed. “You didn’t make a real good first impression, missy. But they didn’t kick you out. Not yet anyway. And lucky for you, I don’t believe they have any dogs around the place.”
Miss Purrty was not Micah’s idea of a pet; he’d never liked cats because he was allergic to them. But this big yellow tabby had been his grandma’s baby. And when she had died, she had made him promise to take care of her cat. Just as he’d insinuated to Bill, Micah did it for her. The cat wasn’t debatable.
But the cat was a bother because Micah had to bathe her weekly in order to survive around her. To him, washing the cat was like foot washing, a humbling thing you did—not because you enjoyed it, but because Jesus had set the example when He had washed his disciples’ feet at the Last Supper. It was something he could do in remembrance of his sweet grandma.
And he’d given the cat a bath right before he’d left, but Megan had still sneezed. Maybe he was getting some kind of immunity to the cat, because the last time he’d been here, he’d discovered that he and Megan were pretty much on the same page—when it came to allergies. That fact and the memory of how she’d whipped out her EpiPen to save his life when nobody else knew what to do formed a sense of solidarity between them.
He moved around, inspecting the small cottage that would be his home for the next three months. He’d been speaking his mind when he told Bill it was perfect. The three-month interim had been an unexpected offer. At first it was less than he’d hoped for, but given the circumstances, it was an appropriate step. Even if he didn’t get a permanent position, it would be a learning experience.
And he’d been exceptionally grateful to hear about the little cottage. He wouldn’t want to continue on as a guest inside Megan’s home, sharing her hairspray for pity’s sake. But thanks to her goading, he had learned how to master his hair. He’d used her hairspray mostly to spite her, but it had proved useful.
He stuck his head inside the bathroom and drew back the glass shower door that appeared to be brand new. He grinned, thinking how nice it would work when he gave Miss Purrty a bath. A shower curtain wouldn’t have been able to contain her. Bath time was when she recouped all her youthful vigor and ricocheted off the walls like a wet cat-ball. It took her the rest of the week to recover from the ordeal, and by then it was time to repeat the dreaded process all over again.
He opened the medicine cabinet and noticed more storage beneath the sink beside a stack of Anita’s fluffy white towels. It reminded him of the pillow incident the last time, the incident that had finally broken the ice with Megan. Yep, he had a great setup
with this little cottage. It afforded privacy while he could still take his meals inside and explore whatever it was he felt for Megan.
He went back into the main room. His gaze shifted to the door, which also appeared to be brand new. Just to the right of the door was a beautiful rolltop desk and a lamp with a beaded string. He dragged his wheeled, plastic file cabinet over and found it fit in the corner next to the desk.
The adjacent wall had a twin bed with a spindled wood headboard. He was pleased with the simple, utilitarian style. Although the room carried obvious feminine touches, it wasn’t filled with dried flowers and doilies like his own home had been. After his grandma’s death, he’d hauled most of that old-fashioned feminine stuff to store in her bedroom, never taking over the master for himself.
Unmatched, medium-sized dressers flanked either side of the small bed instead of nightstands and covered the expanse of the wall. It was disproportionate but practical, yet he would have been willing to give up some storage in exchange for a larger bed. His gaze traveled back to the dresser on the left, which had raised panel drawers with loop bail handles on back plates. The dresser on the right was more decorative with an attached mirror.
Turning the corner brought him to the closet. Its sliding doors glided almost effortlessly. One half of the closet had high-low rods for clothing and was already holding his dress clothes, and the other half had built-in shelving. Nice. Beside it was the entrance to the bathroom, which he’d already explored. And in the small wall in the corner was the little refrigerator. Above it was a hat rack. He smiled to see that it already held a checkered tea towel and a black umbrella with a wooden handle.
Pivoting on his heels, he noticed that the wall opposite the bed had a window with brown paisley curtains. A small table stood directly beneath the window. On top of it were several books. Two small, stenciled, Pennsylvania Dutch chests served as bookends. They felt heavy. Then he saw the flowery stationery. He read the message with a smile, unable to place the librarian from his last visit. He’d have to get out his cheat sheet. He wondered if the tiny chests came from her home.
Plain City Bridesmaids Page 75