Letters to Katie (12 page)

“What’s for supper?”

“Cabbage and noodles, that leftover baked chicken from last night, and the last of
the canned peas.” Her mother set down the wooden spoon she used to stir the peas.
“I’m glad the garden’s started. I miss the fresh vegetables.”

“Me too.” Katherine leaned against the kitchen counter. “I was wondering, do you still
have those old kitchen and living room curtains?”

“The ones we replaced a few years ago?
Ya
. I haven’t had a chance to repurpose the fabric. Why?”

“Could I have them?”

“Sure.” Her
mamm
looked at her. “Does your friend need curtains?”

“Most definitely.”

“Then you’re welcome to the fabric.” She opened the oven, looked at the chicken bubbling
in a light, creamy gravy. Heat started filling the kitchen before she shut the oven
door. “Almost done.”

After supper, Bekah went upstairs while her parents sat outside on their back porch
to enjoy the fresh evening air. Katherine found the curtains, the living room ones
a pale blue color resembling a robin’s egg, plus the thicker cream-colored kitchen
ones. She heated up the iron on the gas stove and ironed the curtains, making sure
each seam and pleat was perfectly straight. She had measured Johnny’s windows before
she left, and while the living room curtains would be an inch short, anything was
better than the shaggy, dusty ones he had now.

It was past nine, and she was yawning by the time she finished. She folded the curtains
carefully and put them in a large cloth tote bag she’d quilted from spare fabric when
she was seven years old. Then she went upstairs and collapsed into bed.

A few moments later her eyes flew open. She had to work tomorrow! How could she have
forgotten? She would be off by three, but she still had to shop for supper, hang the
curtains, and prepare the meal, all before six. She shot out of bed, turned on the
lamp, and made a list of everything she needed to do, right down to the last detail.
There wouldn’t be time to make her best dessert, raisin cream pie. She’d have to purchase
a pie from the bakery at Mary Yoder’s and bring it to Johnny’s.

As she turned off the light and went back to bed, she prayed for everything to go
smoothly tomorrow.

She couldn’t disappoint Johnny. She was determined not to let him down.

C
HAPTER
9

Cora took a deep breath and slowly extricated herself from the taxi in front of Anna
and Lukas Byler’s home. Four months ago, when she had first come here, she had been
appalled at the simple, backward way her grandson lived with his adoptive parents.

Her daughter, Kerry, had set those wheels in motion by rejecting the handpicked fiancé
Cora had chosen for her and falling in love instead with a man who was entirely unsuitable.
An impassable rift had grown between Cora and Kerry, and when Kerry and her husband
died, Cora knew nothing of their death—or of the teenage son they had left behind.
Sawyer had ultimately been adopted by the Amish Byler couple—a fate she could have
saved him from, had she only known of his existence.

But that was over and done with. Water under the bridge. She’d never been able to
control her daughter, but she could—she
would
—control Sawyer’s immediate future.

She had tried once and failed. This time she would succeed. Since he hadn’t returned
to New York, she would come to him.
She would use every tool in her arsenal to convince him to take up his rightful place
as her heir. Every tool, save one—her diagnosis. He would not make this decision out
of pity. She wouldn’t allow that.

The sharp edges of the gravel stones on the driveway drove through the thin leather
of her ballet flats. She couldn’t balance on heels anymore. Even with the simple shoes,
she had to tread carefully, watching her step and making sure nothing threw her off
balance. A cane was out of the question. She wouldn’t use one until absolutely necessary.

The taxi driver had retrieved her bags and was already briskly passing her as he took
her luggage to the Bylers’ front porch. He set the suitcases down and turned as she
reached the bottom step. “Is there anything else I can do for you, ma’am?”

“No. That will be all.” She stopped walking, pulled her leather wallet out of her
Hermés bag, and gave him a generous tip. As he left she walked up the front steps,
making sure to navigate them carefully. She bypassed the luggage and knocked on the
front door. Then knocked again.

No answer.

It never dawned on her that no one would be home. Sawyer and Lukas were most likely
at work at the carpentry shop. But where was Anna? Didn’t the woman have washing or
baking or some other primitive chore to do that would keep her tied up at home?

Cora looked around, taking in the stark white houses unadorned with anything but natural
landscaping. Despite several lines of washing hanging from various houses, no one
was in sight. She stilled and listened for a moment.
The quiet made her ears hurt.

She managed her way back down the stairs. Perhaps Anna was in the backyard. She thought,
not for the first time, how much simpler it would be if these people had a phone.
She could have announced her arrival properly. Now she had to comb the property just
to find someone.

As she came around the back, the ground changed from rough gravel to rich, green grass.
The backyard was large, with a crude, sturdy-looking wood fence surrounding it. Cora
pulled her designer jacket around her body as the wind kicked up, carrying the unpleasant
scent of animals and their waste with it. She would never get used to that smell.
Give her city exhaust any day.

A long wooden swing positioned under two large oak trees caught her eye. The branches
extended up and out, higher and farther than any tree she’d seen in the city. The
leaves were just beginning to bud.

Weariness overcame her as the travel and the stress of figuring out what to say to
Sawyer took their toll. The swing did look inviting. She’d sit for just a short while
and wait for Anna to come home. It had to be soon. It wasn’t like a horse and buggy
could take her far.

Gingerly she sat down and found the swing to be more comfortable than she had imagined.
Cora took in the property, the wide-open field beyond the fence, the tall trees dotting
the land. This time when she breathed in, she smelled something different. The sweet
smell of grass. The freshness of the air. It filled her lungs, calming her inside.

She closed her eyes. This time the silence wasn’t as overwhelming. In fact, it seemed
to be just right.

Sweat dripped from Johnny’s brow as he swept up the last pile of dirt and straw from
the barn. He put the broom back on the rack with his other tools and surveyed his
work. It wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do. The Wagners would be here in less
than three hours. He didn’t have much time to do anything else. Besides that, he was
worn out.

But where was Katie? He thought she would have been here by now.

When he went inside last night, the place sparkled. He hadn’t realized how filthy
it was until he saw it clean. For the first time, the house almost seemed like a home.

Just then Katie pulled into the driveway. He let out a breath of relief and went to
take the reins from her. Her cheeks were pink, and she was a little breathless, as
if she’d been rushing around. All on his account.

He would have to make this up to her somehow. In a way she would never forget.

Several paper bags lay on the seat beside her. “Need some help with those?”

“
Nee
, I’m
gut
.” She got out of the buggy and hurried to the other side.

Johnny started unhitching her horse. “I’ll put him in the barn. I have one extra stall.
Fresh and clean. Some oats and water, and he’ll be happy.”
He stroked the calm animal’s face. “If you’re okay with that.”

“
Ya
. Anything you want.”

Johnny bit his lip. If only she knew how hearing those words affected him . . .

She snatched up the grocery bags and her colorful quilt tote and rushed into the house.
He took a deep breath and led the horse into the barn.

A short while later he entered the kitchen. The fragrant scent of onions filled the
room. Two pots bubbled on the gas stove, the blue flames burning beneath them. Katherine
ran her hand across her forehead as she continued cutting the onions. Suddenly she
started sniffling, and tears began streaming down her cheeks.

“Mary Beth’s eyes always run when she cuts onions,” he said, moving closer to her.
“You want some help with that? I can’t cook, but I can at least use a knife.”

“Nee,”
she said, smiling, her eyes filled with tears. “I’ve got it. You run and get your
shower. Relax a little before company comes.” She nodded. “I have everything under
control.”

He stared at her for a moment, tempted to reach out and wipe the tears away from her
face with his thumb. Instead he put his hands in his pockets and left before he did
something that would get him into trouble.

Johnny went upstairs to get clean clothes, then took a cold shower in the upstairs
bathroom. It didn’t help relieve his tension. She was right, he needed to relax. His
body was on edge, not just from the work, but from nerves—and the woman in the kitchen
downstairs.

Johnny didn’t know how long he stood there, letting the water run over his fatigued
body, praying that everything would be perfect for tonight. Finally he got out of
the shower, dried off, shaved, and put on fresh pants and a light blue shirt. He finger
combed his long brown hair and started to leave the bathroom. Then he saw the wet
towel and his dirty clothes on the floor. Quickly he picked them up and tossed them
in the cabinet under the sink.

When he exited the bathroom the most delectable smell reached him. He breathed in,
closing his eyes. He identified the bread baking first, then the frying onions. She
was making beefsteak and onions? His favorite.

He walked into the kitchen and saw the sizzling meat and stewing vegetables in the
pan on the stove. Sure enough, beefsteak and onions. He’d died and gone to heaven.

“Oh, Johnny. Here.” She motioned him over to the stove. “I need you to watch the onions
for a second.”

He didn’t like the sound of that. “What if I burn them?”

“You won’t. They’re on low heat. I just need you to stir them a couple times.” She
handed him the wooden spoon. He was careful not to touch her as he took it from her
hand.

“Where are you going?”

“It’s a surprise.” She smiled, her cheeks bright and red against the paleness of her
skin. Freckles dotted the bridge of her nose and streaked across her forehead. Her
grin revealed perfectly straight, even teeth, and her blue eyes were sparkling with
excitement.

She was adorable.

He checked himself, quickly averting his gaze.
Focus on the
Wagners
.

“Stir!” she ordered with a light laugh. Then she grabbed that colorful bag of hers
and left the room.