Letters to Katie (16 page)
Her delicate blond eyebrows arched. “When did she arrive?”
“This afternoon.” He chuckled. “Lukas and I found her asleep on the porch swing in
the backyard, if you can believe that.”
“That must have been a sight.” Laura grinned. “This is
gut
news,
ya
? You don’t have to
geh
to New York now. You were dreadin’ that trip.”
“I’m dreading talking to her. Here or in New York, it doesn’t matter.”
“Sawyer, she’s your grandmother—”
“And she wants to rule my life.”
Laura paused. “She is a little forceful.”
“A little?” Sawyer shook his head. “I know exactly what she wants. She wants me to
move back to New York. To live like her.”
“Then she doesn’t know you decided to join the church?”
“Not yet. But it shouldn’t come as a surprise.” Although he figured it probably would.
Cora Easley was used to snapping her fingers to make things happen. To make them go
her way.
But not this time. He was following God’s lead. And his heart.
He took Laura’s hand again. “I don’t want to talk about my grandmother.” Sawyer led
her to the barn. In the distance he could hear the barking of the dogs in Emma Otto’s
new shelter
on the other side of the house. The shelter replaced her grandfather’s old workshop,
which had burned down in the fire Mark King had started, the fire that had almost
taken Laura’s life.
Since rebuilding and turning the building into a dog shelter, Emma had fostered several
stray and abandoned dogs until she could find places for them to live. She and Adam
had taken what Mark destroyed, and from the ashes had risen something compassionate
and worthwhile.
“What are you doing?” Laura asked as he took her to the back side of the building.
“This.” He cupped her face in his hands, the ribbons of her
kapp
touching his fingers. He kissed her, gently, but longer than he’d ever kissed her
before. When he finally pulled away, he brushed the back of his hand against her scarred
cheek, feeling the heat of her skin. He expected her to pull away, to protest halfheartedly,
the way she usually did when he sneaked a kiss. Instead she sighed and leaned against
him. He shuddered as he wrapped his arms around her slim body.
“That has to last two weeks?” He leaned his cheek against the top of her
kapp
.
They didn’t say anything for a long time, just held on to each other. Before he was
ready to let her go, she said, “It’s gettin’ late, Sawyer.”
“I know.” He held on to her.
“I have to
geh
inside. I’m catchin’ the early bus in the mornin’.”
“You sure you don’t want me to take you?”
She shook her head. “I already arranged for a taxi. Besides, I can’t take sayin’ good-bye
twice.” She touched his clean-shaven
cheek, her fingers light, making his skin tingle. “Don’t be too hard on your grandmother
while I’m gone. She does love you, in her own way.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because you’re so lovable.” She kissed the tip of his nose. She pulled out of his
embrace and walked toward the house.
“Two weeks, Laura.”
She nodded, giving him one last long look before disappearing from his sight.
He exhaled. This was going to be the longest two weeks of his life.
Johnny dragged himself upstairs to his bedroom. He had hoped to stop by Katherine’s
today and return her bag, but he spent most of the day fixing a pipe under the sink,
which had suddenly burst that morning. He wasn’t much of a plumber, but he managed
to turn off the water, go to town and talk to a guy at the local plumbing supply shop,
then come back and give the pipe a quick fix. He’d even asked for a job there, but
like everywhere else he’d tried, they weren’t hiring.
He went back home and repaired the pipe, but not as fast as he hoped. The whole process
took up most of the day—precious time he didn’t have. He’d rather be repairing the
barn or stripping the old paint off the decrepit back deck than dealing with a plumbing
problem. But the guy at the shop assured him the
section of pipe should hold for at least a couple of weeks, until he could get around
to replacing the entire line.
Enough time for the Wagners to decide to invest in his farm or not. If they did, he
could afford a professional plumbing job.
If they didn’t—
He shook his head and collapsed on the bed. Katherine’s bag lay on top of the dresser—tempting
him, mocking him. He had brought it upstairs last night, feeling responsible for keeping
it safe.
As if someone would break into this shack and steal an
old patchwork bag
.
The thought was ridiculous, but so was his real reason for keeping the bag in his
room: it gave him a little piece of Katherine close by.
Johnny shut his eyes. Maybe his sister was right, along with everyone else. He was
being
dumm
. If Katie couldn’t accept him at his worst, then that wouldn’t bode well for their
marriage—
if
they got married. After the other day he wouldn’t be surprised if she told him to
take a flying leap into a swampy pond. Actually, even before the Wagners, it wouldn’t
have been a shock if she rejected him.
For years he hadn’t been able to imagine himself with her. Yet in the past year, he
couldn’t stand to think about life without her. And he had assumed she’d wait for
him, just like Mary Beth said.
But what if she didn’t? What if she found someone else? Or what if she just plain
didn’t want him anymore?
He sat up in bed. Maybe that’s what was holding him back. Not the farm or being independent
or not being good enough
for Katherine Yoder. He was afraid she’d say no. And after all this time, after everything
that had—and hadn’t—happened between them, she would have a right to.
Johnny shot out of bed and paced. He tried to clear his mind, tried to pray.
Are you telling me something, God? Have you been
telling me that all along and I’ve been too knuckleheaded to hear?
He stopped in front of his bedroom window. Looked out at the stars winking in the
night sky. God didn’t need to tell him anything. Johnny had always known the truth.
When it came to Katherine, he was a coward. And it was time he did something about
it.
He moved away from the window. Yanked off his shirt and tossed it on the floor. Walked
over to his dresser and touched her bag.
He’d give this back to her tomorrow.
And he would give her something else too. The truth.
Which she had deserved all along.
Katherine rubbed the back of her neck and stared down at the book on her lap. Pain
shot through her skull, and she couldn’t concentrate on the words. Today the aspirin
hadn’t touched it.
She’d had headaches before, but not one that lasted this long, or was this painful.
The thought occurred to her that perhaps she should go to the doctor, but she didn’t
want to waste a trip for a simple headache. Still, she might have to if the headache
didn’t go away.
She lifted her book, studying the quilt patterns on the page. She had picked it up
from the library and was fascinated not only by the bright, vibrant colors but by
the intricate stitching. There were some Amish quilts featured, but other quilts and
patterns from around the world were included as well. She was particularly intrigued
with the Hawaiian quilts—rich, bold patterns appliquéd on a large piece of fabric,
with the quilting stitches following the contour of the design. She would never make
one of these herself, but she did admire the artistry and skill of the quilters.
She lifted her head as she heard Bekah come in. “Where have you been?” she asked.
“Out with some friends. If I’d known you were home, I would have invited you to come
along.”
“I had to work late.” A sharp pain pierced her temple. She winced.
Bekah didn’t seem to notice. “How about if you
geh
to the singing with us this Sunday? It’s at Judith Miller’s.”
The same singing Isaac had invited her to. “Sure you’ll be able to avoid Melvin?”
“I’m not worried about him.” She plopped down on the couch. “I’m not going to let
a
bu
ruin fun with
mei
friends.” She looked at Katherine. “So? Will you come?”
Katherine shook her head and looked down at the book. “I don’t think so.”
“You haven’t been to a singing in years.”
“I’m not interested.” She didn’t mention Isaac’s invitation. “There’s no rule that
says I have to
geh
to those things.”
Bekah sighed. “Are you afraid you’ll run into Johnny? Because that won’t be a problem.
He never goes either.”
Katherine glanced up. She knew why she didn’t go—she couldn’t bear to see him talking
to the other girls. But Johnny was more social than she was, and she knew he had attended
singings when he was younger. Why had he stopped?
“Maybe that
schee mann
who visited yesterday will be there.”
“He won’t.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because he already left town.” She touched her temple again.
“Still have your headache?” Bekah leaned forward, the ribbons of her
kapp
swinging against the front of her lavender dress.
“Ya.”
Katherine forced a smile. “But it should
geh
away soon.”
“You took something for it?”
She nodded but didn’t say how many aspirin she’d taken over the past twenty-four hours
trying to rid herself of the pain assaulting her head. “I’m sure it will start working
soon.”
“I hope so.” Bekah yawned. “I’m heading upstairs.
Guten
nacht
. Hope you feel better.”
“Danki.”
As Bekah went upstairs, Katherine started to open the book again. But she set it aside
instead. She wished she could be like Bekah. She wanted to go to a singing, enjoy
time with her friends, and be cavalier. Maybe she would attend the next one. Or she
would wait for Isaac to return—if he kept his promise to write to her.
She headed upstairs, turned on the battery-powered lamp, and took off her
kapp
. As she undressed, the pain in her head started to lessen. She brushed out her hair
and put it in a ponytail, pinning a kerchief over it. She turned off the light and
lay down.
But she couldn’t sleep. The headache was almost gone, but her thoughts still whirred.
She tossed and turned for a short while, then gave up in frustration and went downstairs.
Maybe a snack would help her sleep.
As she approached the kitchen, she saw the lamp was still
lit. Bekah obviously had the same idea. But when she walked into the room, she saw
her mother cutting a piece of chocolate cake left from supper.
Katherine frowned. Her mother was always early to sleep and early to rise.
“Mamm?”
Her mother jumped, and the cake knife clattered to the floor. She turned to Katherine,
her hand on her chest. “Goodness, you surprised me.”
“I can see that.” Katherine picked up the knife off the floor and rinsed it in the
sink. “Is there any cake left?”