Letters to Katie (30 page)
After spending an hour at his sister’s, Johnny took Katherine home. It was nearly
supper time, and she looked tired. He shouldn’t
have kept her out so late. He’d hear it from
Frau
Yoder for sure.
He glanced at Katherine. Her eyes were drifting shut even as the buggy bounced along
the pavement. He was disappointed that she hadn’t remembered anything. And when she’d
asked him to tell her, he couldn’t bring himself to.
She shifted in her seat, opening her eyes and yawning. She looked at him with sleepy
eyes. “How long was I asleep?”
“Not long. A few minutes.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. Guess I’m more tired than I thought.”
“Understandable after everything you’ve gone through.” He gripped the reins. Now was
as good a time as any to ask her about Isaac. “So. About that guy from Walnut Creek.”
“I really don’t want to talk about him.”
“Okay. Won’t bring him up again.” He paused. “Don’t feel you have to stay awake on
my account.”
“We’re almost home.” She looked down at her lap. “I appreciate you trying to help
me, Johnny.”
“I wasn’t much help.”
“It’s the thought that counts.”
He glanced at her again. This time she was looking at him, her eyes questioning. “Why
are you helping me?” she asked. “I asked you before. I want an answer this time.”
He saw her driveway a few yards ahead. He didn’t say anything until he pulled into
it and stopped next to her house. “Katherine—”
His mouth suddenly went dry. Would she believe him if he told her? Would she send
him away?
“What, Johnny?” She faced him now. They were close enough that if he reached out he
could take her hand. Instead, he held on to the reins.
“I—I care about you.”
Her eyes widened. “You what?”
He swallowed. “I like you, Katie. A lot.” He looked down at the reins in his hand.
“That’s why I’m helping you.”
She twisted in her seat, facing the front, slack-jawed. “Why are you telling me this
now?”
“Because—” He bit his tongue. Every reason flying through his mind sounded lame. He
released the reins and held out his hands. “I just am.”
“I—I can’t do this.” She got out of the buggy.
He scrambled out of his side and hurried after her. He touched her shoulder, which
stopped her in place. She turned around, tears in her eyes.
“Haven’t I been through enough?”
“Please. I can explain all of it. You have been through enough. But I want to end
that. Right now.”
“Katherine?”
Johnny winced as he heard
Frau
Yoder’s voice. He looked past Katherine’s shoulder and saw her mother descending
the stairs of their front porch. She stood next to Katherine and glared at Johnny.
“You’ve been gone all
daag
,” she said, still looking at him.
“I’m sorry.” She turned to her mother.
“Supper’s ready.”
She started to say something, then turned around and walked inside.
He nodded to
Frau
Yoder and moved to leave. He’d have to talk to Katherine later.
“Johnny.”
He squared his shoulders before turning around.
“Ya?”
She glared at him. “I thought we had an understanding. I asked you to leave
mei dochder
alone.”
He approached her. “I don’t blame you for not trusting me. I haven’t been exactly
open with Katherine in the past. I never intended—”
“Your intentions don’t matter, Johnny.” Her tone softened. “It’s too late. You need
to let Katherine
geh
. If you care about her, let her find someone who can make her happy.”
His throat constricted. “I can make her happy.”
She paused, tilting her head to the side. Her hardened gaze eased, and for a second
he wondered if she might change her mind.
Then she shook her head and turned away.
Cora lay on the narrow single bed in the now-empty storage room, her throbbing ankle
propped on several pillows. Sawyer had brought down a few of her things—hairbrush,
toothbrush, other essentials—and Anna had made her a tray with tea and several types
of cookies on a small plate. She sipped the tea but was too tired to even look at
the cookies.
She had to admit her grandson and his adoptive mother were taking good care of her.
The accommodations were rudimentary—there wasn’t even a window in the small room.
But she was comfortable, as much as she could be with a sprained ankle and an incurable
disease.
She tapped her fingers on the edge of the bed. She needed to go back to New York.
She didn’t feel right staying here. But she couldn’t very well make it to the call
box by herself, and Sawyer hadn’t offered to contact her travel agent. If anything,
he seemed determined to keep her there.
Ironic, how the tables had turned. She had done the same thing to him when he visited
her in New York.
A knock sounded on the door, and Anna poked her head in. “You have a visitor.”
Cora frowned. “I do?”
“
Ya
, you do.” Leona hobbled inside, past Anna, not waiting for an invitation from Cora.
Rather rude of the woman. Yet deep inside, Cora was glad for the company.
“I’ll get you a chair,” Anna said. “Sorry there’s not much room.”
“It’s fine, Anna.” Leona smiled. “Plenty of room for the two of us.”
Cora crossed her arms as Leona stood by the door. “What are you doing here?”
“A surprise visit. Ah, Anna,
danki
.”
Anna placed the kitchen chair next to Cora’s bed, then left.
Leona slowly lowered herself into the seat. She looked at Cora’s foot. “Goodness,
what did you do?”
“Slipped. You could have at least let me know in advance you were coming over.”
Leona waved her off. “You would have refused to see me. This way you have no choice.”
She smiled again. “We need to finish our talk.”
“Finish?”
“From the other night. You left rather abruptly.”
“It was late, and I was ready to go home,” Cora said. She uncrossed her arms. She’d
never suspected this unassuming woman would be so nervy. Or nosy. Rather reminded
her of herself. Cora frowned.
“See, there’s something on your mind.”
“My ankle hurts.”
“Other than that ankle. Talk to me, Cora. You need a friend.”
Cora looked away. Was this how these people saw her? Lonely? Burdened? She’d spent
her life hiding her emotions, steeling her resolve. Yet these people, with their backward
ways and unending hospitality, saw right through her.
Not the impression she wanted to give.
Cora turned and looked at Leona, who was leaning on her cane. “It won’t be long before
I’ll need one of those.”
“
Mei
Ephraim made this.” Leona ran her hand across the smooth wood. “Before he passed.
He never used one. I didn’t really need it until a few years ago. Still, I used it
even before that.” She rested her hand on the top of the handle. “Makes me feel closer
to him.”
“Your husband was a woodworker, then?”
Leona shook her head. “
Nee
. He fixed small engines mostly, but every once in a while he liked to work with wood.”
“Sounds like he was a man with many talents.”
“And your husband?” Leona pushed her wire-rimmed glasses up on her nose.
Cora leaned back against the pillows. Her ankle throbbed a little less now. The pain
pill she took a short while ago must have kicked in. She tried to think of something
she could say about her late husband, something that reflected the same devotion Leona
felt for hers.
“Cora?”
“Sorry.” She turned and looked at Leona. “Got lost in my thoughts for a minute.”
“I know what you mean.” Leona looked at her lap. “I miss
mei mann
every day, and he’s been gone a long time.”
“So has my husband.” But she couldn’t say she’d thought of him every day. Or that
their relationship had always been a good one. “I do miss him, though.”
“It’s a hard thing to lose a loved one. You and I, we’ve lost several. I lost
mei sohn
and daughter in-law.”
“And I lost Kerry.” She looked at Leona. “I don’t want to lose Sawyer too.”
“You won’t.”
“I lost Kerry because I pushed too hard. I wanted her to be the woman I’d always expected
her to be. I wanted her to be like—well, like me. But she wasn’t. Oh, she was headstrong
like me. But she didn’t value the same things I did.” Cora blinked back the tears.
“In the end, she chose her husband over me.”
“Perhaps that was God’s plan.”
Cora looked at her with disbelief. “He’s not much of a God, then, is He?”
“His ways aren’t our own. We don’t always understand them, but that’s no reason to
dismiss or ignore His work in our lives.”
Cora turned away. She had no idea what Leona was talking about. More Amish religious
babble. “I’ve never had much use for God.” She turned back to Leona. “Money has always
sufficed.”
“Has it?”
Cora felt herself wilting under Leona’s scrutiny. She slowly shook her head. “Not
in this case. And not with Kerry.”
Suddenly she started to tremble as reality sank in. Money wouldn’t force
Sawyer to be part of her life. He had made that clear. Money couldn’t break Laura
and Sawyer’s bond, and in some ways money and business had driven Kerry away, although
she had to take responsibility for that as well.
Most of all, money wouldn’t cure her Parkinson’s. It didn’t matter if she possessed
every cent on earth, there wouldn’t be a cure. Not in her lifetime.
“Let me pray for you, Cora.” Leona reached out and took Cora’s hand.
Cora looked down at Leona’s hand. It seemed frail, with its pale, transparent skin
and blue veins showing through. Yet she could feel the strength in that grip. Not
a physical strength, but something Cora had never felt before.
“Thank you,” she said to Leona, her voice thick with tears. “No one’s ever offered
to pray for me before.”
“Then it’s time they did.” Leona closed her eyes. Cora waited to hear her say something,
but she remained silent. Finally Leona squeezed her hand and released it.
“That’s it?”
Leona chuckled. “God knows your needs, Cora. Even without me speaking them. Or you
speaking them. But He does like to hear us talk to Him. More than just at holidays
or out of desperation.”
They sat in silence for a couple of moments. “Leona?” Cora said at last.
“Ya?”
“Could you pray that Sawyer changes his mind?”
Leona didn’t respond right away. “I will pray for God’s will. If it’s God’s will that
Sawyer become Amish, I
can’t ask for something different to happen.”
“I see.” And she did. Maybe it was the medicine, or the prayer, or Leona’s calming
presence. But for the first time she did understand. She couldn’t ask God to change
Sawyer’s mind any more than Sawyer could force her to stay here. New York was where
she belonged. And Sawyer belonged here. With this family.
It was time she stopped fighting that.
The next day Sawyer went through the motions at work. Laura wasn’t due back for a
couple of days, and he missed her. Cora wasn’t making things easier either. His grandmother
had been quiet since Leona’s visit. Too quiet, which had Sawyer worried. She hadn’t
asked to return to New York, and she hadn’t mentioned anything to him about Laura
or his baptism or the wedding. When he tried to talk to her last night, she shut him
down.