Letters to Katie (18 page)

“So you can convince us to do things your way?” He shook his head. “No thanks.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Her face suddenly sagged. “Did it ever occur to you that
I came here without an agenda?”

“To be honest, no.”

As he spoke the words, guilt pinched at him. Maybe he shouldn’t have presumed. Then
he shook his head. This was Cora. When did his grandmother
not
have an agenda?

“I want to get to know my grandson. Why is it so hard for you to believe that?”

Sawyer paused and looked at her. She seemed sincere. More sincere than he’d ever seen
her. But he still couldn’t trust her. Not completely. “You know you can stay here
with the Bylers as long as you want. I won’t be joining the church for a little while.
We can get to know each other in the meantime. But I need you to know—I’m not changing
my mind. Not about the church, or about Laura. I’ve prayed about this. Joining the
church is what I want to do. It’s what I need to do.”

“If you don’t join the church, can you still marry Laura?”

He shook his head.
“Nee.”

Cora eyed him. “So this decision—it has everything to do with God and nothing to do
with Laura?”

Sawyer stood. “I knew you wouldn’t understand.”

She held up her hand. “I’m trying. You’re not giving me a chance.”

“Look, even if I didn’t marry Laura, I would still join the church. Visiting you in
New York helped me make up my mind.”

“That wasn’t exactly what I intended.”

“I know. You wanted me to stay.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “But Middlefield
is where I belong. This is my family. That doesn’t mean I can’t come visit you, and
you’re always welcome to visit us, when we’re settled down.”

“So you intend to be a carpenter for the rest of your life?” Cora lifted her chin.
“You’re going to waste your intelligence by making tables and chairs?”

“It was good enough for Jesus.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Jesus was a carpenter . . . never mind.”

“I don’t see what Jesus has to do with this conversation.”

Of course she wouldn’t. They were further apart than he’d imagined. “My point is that
being a carpenter is a good job. It requires skill. People need tables and chairs,
you know.”

“I need you to run my company!”

He scowled. “It’s still all about you, isn’t it? What you want, what you need.”

She rose from the chair—slowly, with measured movements. Yet she spoke as she moved.
“Sawyer, listen to me—”

“I think I’ve listened enough.” All this talk about wanting to get to know him and
Laura was a bluff. He saw that now. And once again he felt betrayed by it. He wasn’t
a grandson to her. He was just DNA, someone to make sure her precious company stayed
in the family.

“I know you don’t think you can run a company, but I can show you.”

“No. That’s not what you want to hear. I get that. But it’s my decision.”

She looked up at him. “You’ve made that very clear.”

“Then why are you still hounding me about this?”

He noticed a sudden weariness in her eyes, and he realized how late it was. When he’d
been in New York, she’d complained of headaches and had gone to bed early at times.
He thought it was a ruse, something she did to put off all his questioning and keep
him with her longer. But maybe it was something else.

“Sawyer, please. Listen to me. You know what I can offer you.”

“Money, power, prestige. I’m not interested in those things.”

“Those aren’t the only things.” She stood and leaned her hands on the chair. “I’m
offering you my legacy.”

Her words stopped him. He hadn’t thought of it that way. And for the first time he
understood exactly how much she wanted to give him. It just wasn’t anything he wanted.

“It’s not God’s will for me to live in New York. Or run your company.”

“God’s will?” Cora’s voice grew indignant. “What does God have to do with any of this?
He didn’t create the company or make it what it is today. I did.”

Sawyer shook his head. “You might not have acknowledged it, but God was with you all
that time.”

“I suppose He was with Kerry when she died too?” She stepped toward him, anger replacing
the weariness in her eyes. “If He was, He would have saved her.”

“We don’t always understand God’s ways.”

“And I don’t understand you. All this God talk. What does that have to do with anything?”

“God has everything to do with it. He’s in control of my life, He guides my decisions.”
Pity made him start to reach for her hand. But he stopped. Anger radiated from her.
Suddenly their fight about money and companies wasn’t important anymore. “I know you
miss her. I do too.”

Cora looked away.

“For a long time I didn’t understand why my parents died.
Why I had to live in a foster home. Even when I first lived with the Bylers, I was
confused. But over time, I saw how God worked in other people’s lives. In my life.
He took me from the foster home to a loving family. Brought me to a community where
I fit in, where I can make a permanent home. He brought Laura to me. Without Him,
none of it would have happened.”

“Coincidence. Circumstances. There’s a rational explanation for everything.”

“Along with a spiritual one.”

They stared at each other. Sawyer could see this conversation wasn’t going to end
here. She didn’t understand. He wasn’t sure she ever would.

A few minutes ago all he wanted was for her to leave him alone. Now he realized something
else: she was lost, in so many ways. She might have enough money to buy a small country,
but she didn’t have peace. Over the past few months he’d come to understand peace,
how it only came from developing a closer relationship with the Lord. He wished the
same for his grandmother.

How could he turn his back on her? If he did, he couldn’t live with himself.

He touched her shoulder. She seemed to flinch at the gesture, and he realized he’d
never even hugged her before. “Why don’t you go upstairs and get some sleep? You look
exhausted.”

“I’m fine.”

“Well, I’m exhausted. We can finish talking tomorrow. I promise. After work.”

She turned from him, her shoulders slumping. Normally
she had perfect posture. “I suppose it’s impossible for you to take a day off.”

“How many days off have you had?”

Cora paused. “Touché.”

“Grandmother, listen to me. We’re not finished talking. Tomorrow when I get home from
work—”

“I may not be here.”

“I hope you will.” A moment ago he’d wanted her to leave. Now he needed her to stay.

“Do you mean that?” She looked puzzled.

“Yes. I do. Good night, Cora.”

He went upstairs. Shut his door. Leaned against it. And even after seeing how transparent
she was, how single-minded and selfish she was being, he still knew that what he needed
to do now was pray for her.

Cora stood, watching her grandson ascend the staircase. She held on to the edge of
the chair, trying to keep her balance and her wits. Weariness washed over her, a heaviness
that was more than physical. Her grandson had changed, even in the short time since
she first met him. There was something about him—confidence, surety, calmness—she
wasn’t sure. Maybe it was all three. Of one thing she was certain: talking wouldn’t
convince him to change his course, even if they continued their conversation for the
next five years.

Time she didn’t have.

She dropped heavily into the chair. Even with all her money and prestige, she couldn’t
compete with these simple people. With the God who ruled their lives. It was as if
her grandson had been brainwashed. He would join the church, get married, and she’d
never see him again, despite any promises he might make to the contrary.

That filled her with more sadness than the idea of someone else running her company.

She couldn’t let that happen. Yet how could she stop him?

Cora looked at her trembling hands. She had one weapon left in her arsenal. One she
hadn’t wanted to use. The last thing she wanted from anyone was pity. But this one
time, perhaps she could use it to her advantage.

C
HAPTER
14

Johnny woke up before dawn the next morning. He quickly did his chores and went back
to the house. He showered, shaved, and put on a shirt and homespun pants, the ones
that were the least wrinkled in his closet. He went back to the bathroom and combed
his hair. The brush slipped out of his hand. He snatched it off the floor and tried
to collect himself.

He had spent last night rehearsing what he would say to Katherine today when he dropped
off her bag. He didn’t know if she had to work, so he hoped to catch her at home.
If he had to, he’d go to Mary Yoder’s and wait for her to finish her shift. He was
determined not to be a coward anymore.

But determination didn’t settle his nerves—or eradicate the fear that she wouldn’t
see him, much less talk to him. He couldn’t imagine sweet Katie sending him away.
Yet he wouldn’t blame her if she did.

He got himself in presentable shape and was just about to leave when his cell phone
rang. It was a small, cheap phone, the kind you could buy off a rack at a discount
store. And even though he had permission as a business owner, he felt guilty using
it.

All thought of guilt vanished when he saw the name on the ID:
Wagner
. He clicked on the phone. “Hello?”

“John! How are you this fine morning?”

“Good.” He looked at Katherine’s bag lying on the table. He started pacing the length
of his kitchen. “Yourself?”

“Doing fine. Wanted to let you know, Lois and I made a decision about investing in
your venture.” His boisterous voice paused.

“And?” Johnny gripped the phone. Held his breath. Prayed for the right answer.

“We’d like to talk about it with you further. We have some ideas we’d like to run
past you before we make a large financial commitment.”

“Ideas?”

“Yes. Lois came up with some terrific ways to make your little farm a huge success.
But I don’t believe in talking business over the phone. How about if we come out tonight?
Have another one of those tasty meals you served last time?”

Johnny hesitated. No way he’d ask Katherine for her help again. Not until he’d smoothed
things over with her. Even then, he wouldn’t treat her like his personal caterer.
He was done taking advantage of her.

“Tonight is fine. But I’ll be honest, I’ll have to order out.”

“Your friend isn’t available to cook?”

Johnny thought Wagner seemed overly fixated on food, but who was he to judge?
“No. She’s not,” he said firmly. “But takeout from Mary Yoder’s is just as good.”

Almost
. It was a meal he could ill afford—it would take up most of what was left from his
last paycheck. But what choice did he have?

“All right, that will be fine. About six o’clock?”

“Sure.”

“We’ll see you then—wait.” Wagner’s voice sounded far away. “What’s that, hon? You
want to meet earlier?” A pause, then Wagner’s voice came through the phone receiver
at full strength. “Lois said tonight isn’t any good. Bridge club. She can’t miss that.”