Mary Kate’s lips twitched. It would be like Mamm to think of feeding her, while Gloria had mostly hurried home to share her plan for enticing Roman. “No need for that,” she assured her sister. “Maybe if there’s food left after all the guests have eaten a plate, it would be nice, but I’ve got some of Beulah’s cheese and—”
“All right then, I’ll get back to the lodge,” Gloria replied as she hurried out of the kitchen.
The screen door banged behind her, sounding very much like the lid of a coffin falling shut. Mary Kate blinked rapidly, determined to enjoy her fresh cheese sandwich instead of crying. It was a beautiful, warm autumn day to eat outside on the porch, and she would not fall prey yet again to the emotions that surged like a rollercoaster, from highs to lows, without any warning. She had to believe that her life would go on, that her outlook would improve once she held her newborn baby.
“Kitty kitty?” Mary Kate glanced toward the mudroom where the two cats had their bed. As she pressed a second slice of fresh bread onto her cheese to form a thick sandwich, her white cat and its ginger companion peered out at her, blinking as though she’d wakened them from a nap. She took a few cat treats from a container in the pantry, capturing their attention.
“I’ve got something yummy here. If you come out to the porch with me, we can have a picnic,” Mary Kate murmured as she placed the treats on her plate. “If we’re lucky, maybe later Mamm’ll bring a go-box of something with gravy. I could really go for a big dollop of mashed potatoes smothered in chicken gravy. Or just a go-box full of gravy.”
Sugar and Spice followed her out the front door, meowing softly. When Mary Kate settled on the swing, the cats leapt nimbly up on either side of her, watching closely as she lifted the sandwich to her lips. As she chewed a huge bite of the soft cheese and fresh bread, she placed treats on the swing’s padded seat for her pets. When she looked down the road again, the last guests were leaving Noah and Deborah’s new home, ambling toward the dining room in the lodge to enjoy the wonderful meal she’d helped prepare yesterday.
Mary Kate had a sudden yearning to sink her teeth into Rosetta’s moist, savory baked chicken and to cram her mouth full of the dressing the Kuhn sisters had made. Mamm had told her that cravings were common during pregnancy, yet deep down she wanted the fun and fellowship of the wedding dinner even more than the delicious food. Would it be this way for the rest of her life—sitting alone with the cats and the baby while the rest of the world passed her by? She sighed as she set her boring white sandwich on her plate and gave Sugar and Spice another treat.
She was almost ready to go inside, to search the cabinets and the fridge for something more tempting, when a movement at the back door of the lodge caught her eye. A tall, lithe figure jogged across the road toward Rainbow Lake and then disappeared into the orchard. The black pants, white shirt, and lean body build meant it was one of the young men attending the wedding, but why had he left the dinner that was just being served? And what was in the container he was carrying?
“There’s a story there,” Mary Kate murmured. At the cats’ nudging, she dropped another treat on either side of her. Absently, she took a bite of her sandwich as she tried to recall the guy’s hair color. She was cramming the last of the sandwich into her mouth when a voice startled her.
“Here you are! I’ve been looking for you all morning, Mary Kate.”
Mary Kate’s eyes widened as Roman Schwartz came around the side of the house and stepped up onto the porch. The cats, always wary of strangers, scurried to the far corner. With her mouth so full, all Mary Kate could do was hold up a finger in a plea to wait until she’d chewed and swallowed her unladylike mouthful of food. Why would Roman be here instead of on the eck, eating with the rest of the wedding party? Did she dare hope his lidded glass pan held food from the lodge kitchen?
And where’s my sister? she wondered as she finally managed a smile. “I—I wasn’t expecting you,” she blurted. Feeling suddenly fat, she tried to cover her belly with her plate, knowing that trick wouldn’t work.
Roman’s lopsided smile made him look like a kid, although Mary Kate knew he was twenty-three or twenty-four. “I saw you going into Noah’s house before church, but when I looked for you during the service, I only saw your sister. Are you all right?”
Mary Kate’s cheeks prickled with heat. “Um, Dat sort of told me to go home,” she murmured. “He has a thing about women being seen in public when they’re . . . carrying.”
“Ah. I thought it might be something like that. Not always easy, being the bishop’s kid, I bet.” He glanced down as though he’d just remembered he was holding something. “I brought you some dinner.”
Had anyone ever done such a thoughtful thing for her? Shyly, Mary Kate held out her hands, and when Roman gave her the warm container, she caught a whiff of chicken that nearly made her swoon. Remembering her manners, she scooted to one end of the swing. “Sit down if you want,” she murmured. “But then, I guess you’ll be heading back to eat with the bride and groom—”
Roman shrugged and sat on the other end of the swing. “Plenty of time for that, seeing’s how the party will last all day. Can I get you a fork or something?”
Once again Mary Kate marveled at the kindness her visitor was showing. She chuckled as she lifted the container’s lid and took a deep breath. “How did you know I’d been sitting here wishing for chicken and gravy?” she murmured ecstatically. “Oh, Roman, denki so much!”
He cleared his throat a little nervously. “I thought I’d visit awhile—unless you don’t want me watching you eat.”
“We could share. You loaded enough into this pan for three people—which will work out just right, considering I’m eating for two,” Mary Kate teased. Then she nearly choked. Had she really made a joke about her condition to a guy? The fellow her sister was crazy for?
Roman laughed. “I’ll get two forks. We’ll see how much you leave for me.”
“Jah, it’ll taste better now than it will later.”
By the time he’d reached the door, Mary Kate was ready to grab one of the seasoned chicken legs and stuff it unceremoniously into her mouth. Roman had mounded mashed potatoes at one end of the glass pan, along with a generous portion of dressing, and he’d poured creamy chicken gravy over it all. Alongside four pieces of baked chicken, he’d spooned some creamed celery and several slices of apples simmered in butter, brown sugar, and cinnamon. She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes.
“Did I pick stuff you like?” Roman asked as he returned with their forks. “I was trying to get out of the kitchen and across the road before your sister realized what I was doing. She’s been, well . . . gawking at me a lot today.”
Mary Kate’s heart skipped a beat. Who would ever have imagined Roman Schwartz—the guy who milked huge black-and-white dairy cows every day—trying to escape her sister’s schemes? “Gloria wants to go out with you. But you didn’t hear that from me.”
Roman handed her a fork and sat down in the swing again, close enough that they could eat from the glass pan he held between them. He seemed to be considering his response.
Mary Kate, however, wasted no time dipping up a big blob of potatoes and gravy. It was a mouthful of heaven. She closed her eyes over the combination of creaminess and warmth and smooth, well-seasoned chicken gravy. “Ohhh,” she murmured. “You have no idea how I was craving potatoes and gravy.”
Roman’s smile made his brown eyes sparkle. His dark blond waves shifted in the breeze as he took a forkful of the dressing. “I could eat this kind of food every single day and not get tired of it,” he remarked. “But I don’t know how to make potatoes and gravy and dressing—much less how to cook chicken the way my aunt does.”
I would make you mashed potatoes and gravy and dressing every day, Mary Kate suddenly thought. But where had such an idea come from? Roman was at least six years older than she was, and he wouldn’t be hanging around once the baby came. He’d felt sorry for her, being here by herself instead of attending
the wedding, and she didn’t want his pity. It occurred to Mary Kate that just this morning she’d told the gals at the lodge she wanted nothing to do with men, ever . . . yet Roman was making her forget her aversion. Could he be as genuinely nice as he seemed?
“You have gut taste, Roman,” she said as she reached for a chicken leg. “And denki again for thinking of me.”
“You’re welcome.” He took hold of the pan so Mary Kate could use both hands to eat her chicken. He was polite enough not to comment when she made very short work of the leg and then set the bone against the side of the pan.
They spent the next several moments eating in companionable silence, careful to avoid each other’s forks as they dipped into the container. When they were down to scraping the sides of the pan, they both sighed contentedly—and then laughed at themselves.
“I feel so much better,” Mary Kate said. “It was awfully nice of you to come.”
Roman smiled at her. “I’m glad I did. For guys my age, weddings feel like the first day of deer hunting season, when all the single gals behave as though the guys are walking targets. I suppose I should get back, though.”
“Jah, your brother and the bride probably are wondering what’s happened to you.” Not to mention Gloria, Mary Kate thought with a smile.
“I guarantee you that Noah and Deborah aren’t thinking about me,” Roman teased. “You did miss a pretty provocative wedding sermon, though. Your dat told my mamm and aunts, along with Amos and Preacher Marlin—by name—that they were to be married before the snow flies and that he’d allow no marrying of Amish to Mennonites. He also preached that the women’s only business should be keeping house for their families.”
Her jaw dropped. “He really said those things? In front of so many people?” she whispered. “That’s not going to go over with Rosetta or your mamm or—”
“Preacher Amos was gripping the bench so hard, I thought he might crack it in half. Preacher Marlin looked ready to stand up and leave—and Truman Wickey was as mad as I’ve ever seen him.” Roman shook his head as he rose from the swing. “I’m sure we’ve not heard the last of this. After all, who’s to run the produce stand or manage the lodge apartments if my mother and aunt aren’t allowed? I can’t see them handing over those businesses to men—even their husbands—after they’ve poured themselves into making a go of it here.”
Mary Kate sighed loudly. “My dat believes women should know their place and stay there, without making any fuss,” she murmured. “I don’t see why he’s so old-fashioned about stuff like that, when other Amish settlements allow women to work from their homes—which is what your mamm and Rosetta are doing. And anyone can see that Truman and Rosetta are meant for each other.”
“It’ll all work out, somehow.” Roman gazed at her. Although he stood nearly six feet tall and had a sturdy, muscled body, he didn’t give the impression of looking down at her, or of intending to keep her in his shadow or under his thumb. The slow smile that overtook his face appeared open and sincere—not a sign of derision or pity. “You take care, Mary Kate. It was nice visiting with you.”
As Roman strolled down the road leading back to the lodge, Mary Kate wanted to clap her hands and whoop and dance. Never in her wildest dreams had she anticipated a visit from a good-looking guy after she’d resigned herself to spending the day with her cats. Her smile grew even wider when she realized how upset Gloria would be when she found out why Roman had left the wedding dinner.
It wasn’t that she wished her sister ill. For the first time, Mary Kate had enjoyed the attention of a very eligible, upstanding young man who’d escaped pretty, vivacious, accomplished Gloria to spend time with her. That would never have happened back in Sugarcreek, where her sister went out quite often while Mary Kate hadn’t been out on a single date. Ever. To the young men there she’d apparently been invisible, yet when Roman Schwartz had looked her over moments ago, she’d felt a connection.
She’d felt pretty. Happy.
If God had led her father here to become the bishop of Promise Lodge, maybe He had some plans for her, as well. Maybe this new settlement in rural Missouri held more promise than she’d thought.
Chapter Three
“Mattie, we’ve excused you from kitchen duty today,” Beulah Kuhn insisted as she playfully swished her apron to usher Mattie toward the dining room.
“Jah, I figured you and Preacher Amos would be enjoying the meal—and maybe the whole afternoon—together,” Frances Lehman joined in. “We’ve got plenty of help here, so—”
When Frances’s smile fell, Mattie realized how fierce her facial expression must be. She inhaled deeply, reminding herself that Frances and the Kuhn sisters had graciously agreed to oversee the final preparations of the meal rather than attend the wedding, so they weren’t yet aware of Bishop Floyd’s decrees.
“You’d better put me to work washing dishes or filling plates or something,” Mattie murmured as a movement at the doorway caught her attention. Rosetta and Christine were entering the kitchen with the same idea, it appeared—wearing expressions that suggested they’d tasted lemon pie made without any sugar. “Busy hands might be happy hands,” Mattie continued, “but—”
“My hands feel like wringing somebody’s neck,” Rosetta muttered. She grabbed a flour-sack towel and began drying the big metal pots Ruby had scrubbed.
“And just who am I supposed to hitch up with in the next few weeks?” Christine demanded in a low voice. “If that wasn’t the most preposterous, inappropriate—”
Mattie slung her arm around her sister before her rant went any further. “Keep in mind that our friends here have been cooking, so they don’t know about Bishop Floyd’s sermon. Frances shouldn’t bear the brunt of our hissy fit, because she’s not responsible for what comes out of her husband’s mouth.”
Frances’s expression tightened, while the Kuhn sisters came over to huddle with Mattie, Christine, and the bishop’s wife. Mattie understood perfectly why Rosetta remained beside the sink, wiping a big metal stockpot as though she intended to remove the burnt-on grime that dated back to when the lodge was a church camp.
“Oh dear,” Frances murmured. “Something tells me Floyd went beyond his usual spiel about women knowing their place.”
Christine exhaled, crossing her arms over her apron. “Can you imagine how we sisters felt when the bishop called us by name—along with Preacher Amos and Preacher Marlin—”
“And informed us we were all to be married before the first snowfall?” Mattie continued in a hoarse whisper.
“Just who does he think I’m to marry?” Christine’s voice cracked and she looked ready to cry. “Marlin Kurtz hasn’t been here but a couple of months—not that he seems any more inclined toward hitching up with me than I am with him.”
“And where does it leave me if Bishop Floyd’s forbidding me to marry Truman because he’s a Mennonite?” Rosetta blurted. She set her pot on a metal table with a clank that echoed in the kitchen. “I’ve known all along that he feels that way, and I’ve had many a conversation with God about the consequences of leaving my Amish faith to become Truman’s wife, but—it’s just the nerve of that man! Calling us out in front of a roomful of wedding guests!”
Frances covered her face with her hand. “Oh my. I had no idea he’d go so far as to humiliate you that way.”
“What’d he say about Ruby and me?” Beulah muttered. “If he thinks we two maidels intend to get married at this late date—”
“Not to worry, Sister,” Ruby said as she patted Beulah’s arm. “This new colony welcomes all manner of Plain folks, but we who are Mennonite rather than Amish don’t answer to Floyd, remember.”
“I’m afraid my husband’s as hardheaded as he is hard of hearing,” Frances murmured. “I suppose he also preached that women shouldn’t be running businesses—even though that has little to do with Noah and Deborah getting married.”
“Jah, we heard that sermon again,” Mattie replied. She suddenly felt very tired, unwilling to
carry this conversation any further. “Now that I’ve let off some steam, I want to find Amos. I could tell by the look on his face that he was no happier about Floyd’s ultimatum than we women were.”
Mattie smoothed her apron, hoping her bad mood would dissipate as she stepped into the doorway of the dining room. What a sight it was! The long tables covered in white cloths gave the large hall a simple elegance. Every seat was filled with friends and family members who visited happily as they ate their meal. The aromas of baked chicken, stuffing, and warm bread soothed her as she gazed from table to table, trying to locate Amos. She hoped he hadn’t given up on her. He’d be disappointed if she didn’t join him for dinner.
Her gaze lingered on the raised eck table, where her younger son sat with his new bride. The sight of them sitting so close, lost in each other’s gazes, made Mattie’s heart overflow with a special love. It’s their happiness that matters, she reminded herself. They’re the future of Promise Lodge no matter how things work out—or don’t—with Floyd Lehman.
Mattie wondered why Roman was returning to his place at the wedding party’s table with a secretive smile, appearing slightly out of breath. He waved off Noah’s teasing question, squeezing his younger brother’s shoulder as he sat down beside Laura Hershberger—his cousin and Deborah’s closest friend. What a blessing that her boys were so close, and that they remained so connected to Christine’s girls, as well. Once again, as she gazed at their earnest faces, she wondered how those four kids—and Deborah—had reached young adulthood already.
If your sons are twenty-four and twenty-one, there’s no denying how old that makes you, Mattie realized wistfully. Maybe Amos has it right. Maybe you should accept his proposal, for who knows how long he’ll keep asking a middle-aged widow to make her home with him? Roman’s building a house now, so he’ll have a home to offer the right young woman when she comes along. Do you want to grow old alone?
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