“You are to hit your head?” Katie echoed.
He stared at her for a moment before a slow, knowing smile ignited across his narrow face. “Hit the head. It’s an expression. It means to go to the bathroom.”
“Oh.” At a loss for what else to say, she followed him into the waiting area and then watched as he made haste toward a set of stairs that appeared to be moving. Sure enough, the driver stepped on, stood still, and rode all the way to the top. Just beyond him she could see food signs with bright neon lights, a smattering of tables and chairs, and an even bigger sea of people.
A flurry of activity off to her side pulled her focus back to her immediate surroundings in time to see a trio of girls pointing at her and her clothes. Swallowing, she turned her head only to spot yet another grouping of people eyeing her in much the same way baby Annie did a new-to-her bug. . . .
“Katie, right?”
Surprised by the sound of her name, Katie glanced over her shoulder to find an English man about the same age as Abram smiling back at her. She took a moment to drink in the green eyes gazing back at her and then shifted in her spot behind Miss Lottie’s bag. “You must be looking for another Katie, an English—”
“No, you’re her. Although, if I’d passed you on the street and you were wearing different clothes, I’d think you were Hannah.”
She pulled her fingers from the bag’s handle but not in time to cover her gasp completely. “You know my sister? You know Hannah?”
“I sure do. She’s dating my friend, Travis.” He held out his hand but let it drop back to his side when the gesture went unreturned. “Anyway, I’m Eric—Eric Morgan. And since you’re probably not enjoying the smell of this place any more than I am, why don’t we get going.”
“But I don’t know you, and Hannah is to come and get me. Dat said.”
“Dat?”
“My father.”
“Oh. Right. I think I’ve heard Hannah say that word a few times.” He pointed at Katie’s bag and, at her nod, lifted it up and onto his shoulder. “Anyway, Hannah couldn’t get away from work as planned, so she asked Travis to get you. Travis is hung up somewhere uptown and so he called me and asked if I would get you. And since my job at the moment is designing websites for people, I was able to put that aside for a while to come get you.”
“But I don’t know you.”
“You know your sister, yes?”
“Yah.”
“And you’ve met Travis, yes?
She nodded.
“Well, I’m sure you know they wouldn’t send someone to get you that wasn’t okay.”
“But Hannah—”
He raked a hand through his mop of dark brown hair and then hooked his thumb toward the moving stairs. “C’mon. You’ll be fine. I’ll have you at Hannah’s place in ten minutes—fifteen if, for some reason, cabs are a little limited when we get out of here. But since we’re between showtimes, I’m thinking they’ll be pretty easy to find.”
She wanted to protest, wanted to pull her bag back off his arm and wait until Hannah could come, but she didn’t want to stay in that dank and dirty room any longer than necessary. Instead, she followed him and her suitcase across the room and onto the same moving stairs she’d seen the bus driver take.
At the top, she stumbled forward, slamming into Eric’s back. He, too, lurched forward, but managed to keep himself upright while simultaneously grabbing hold of her arm until she was steady again. “I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to bump into you like that.”
For a moment he said nothing, his eyes darting between Katie and the stairs before coming to rest solely on hers. “Have you ever been on one of those before?”
She looked back at the moving staircase and the parade of people it delivered up to the restaurants and down to the buses. “We don’t have moving stairs in Blue Ball. We move our own feet.”
The answering smile he flashed in her direction carved a single hole in each of his cheeks. “That’s actually an escalator. And yeah, if you’re not paying attention, the transition back to stationary ground can be a little jarring.”
“Yah.”
Eric motioned toward a set of doors on the far side of the restaurants and then held the same hand in her direction. “It’s easy to get lost in a crowd when you’re not sure where you’re going, so hold on tight, and I’ll get you through this mess and outside in no time.”
“I will be fine if I just follow.” She tucked her hand behind her back and, when he shrugged and began walking, trailed him in zigzag fashion through the crowd of varying shapes, sizes, and colors.
Some people barely looked their way, intent on their own destinations. Others would stop and stare at her as she raced to keep up with Eric. Once, a long whistle from a group of men seated against a wall to her left had Eric doubling back and remaining by her side the rest of the way.
Her excitement over finally reaching the outer door was short-lived thanks to the cacophony of sights and sounds that practically rooted her to the sidewalk the second they stepped outside. Everywhere she looked, she saw people . . . and buildings. . . and picture signs . . . and cars. Laughter mingled with shouts and car horns competed with sirens. People pushed past her with shopping bags and food, cameras and maps.
In return, all she could do was stare.
“Katie? Are you okay?”
She wanted to answer, she really did. But every time her brain tried to focus, she saw or heard something that made her mouth gape all over again.
Eventually, Eric gave up and swept her limited attention span toward the road and the cars and buses that zipped past. “Don’t move, I’m going to try and get us a cab.”
He took a few steps forward, lifted a finger into the air, and then waved her over as a yellow car sped to a stop not more than a foot from where she stood. “C’mon. Let’s get you out of here and—”
“Is it like this by Hannah’s?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
She tried again, this time using her hands to indicate the busyness around them. “Is it like this everywhere in the city?”
Understanding dawned in his eyes as he relaxed his hold on the taxi’s back door. “No. We’re in the Times Square area at the moment. It doesn’t get much busier than this, thankfully. Up where Hannah is, is pretty peaceful.”
She looked from Eric, to the back seat of the taxi, and back again, her need for air and semi-open spaces simply too overpowering to ignore. “Could we just walk to Hannah’s instead?”
His brows inched upward. “You want to walk thirty blocks?”
“Yah.”
He looked back at the taxi, shrugged, and then relinquished control of its back door to another would-be passenger. “Okay, I guess we’re walking.”
Chapter 11
Even without the occasional laughter, Katie could feel Eric’s amusement every time she stopped to stare at something—a building that seemed to reach all the way to the clouds, a person sporting pink or purple hair, a store window with English clothes being showcased by headless bodies, dogs sitting next to people with signs asking for money . . . She tried to keep walking, she really did, but the images she’d dreamt up for Hannah’s new town paled in comparison to the reality that was New York City.
“I’m sorry I keep stopping,” she said as she hurried to catch up with Hannah’s friend for the umpteenth time since leaving the bus terminal. “There are just so many things to look at.”
Switching Miss Lottie’s bag to his opposite arm, he smiled down at her. “I’ve got nothing pressing to get to, so it’s no problem. Besides, it’s kind of fun watching your reaction to things I barely even notice anymore.”
This time it was his words rather than their surroundings that stopped her feet. “You don’t notice purple hair?” she asked. “Or that there are no trees?”
“We have trees.”
“Where?” she asked, scanning the streets to her left and right. “I don’t see trees.”
“There aren’t a
ny here, exactly, but we have trees. Trust me on this.” He nudged his chin toward the other side of the street and a half dozen or so people walking by. “As for purple hair, no, I don’t really notice that kind of stuff anymore. But I did notice that thing you wear on your head the second I spotted you at the bus terminal.”
“It is not a thing, it is a kapp.”
Slowly, Eric made his way around Katie, stopping briefly to point at the back of her head. “It’s almost heart-shaped here in the back.”
“Yah. That is the way prayer coverings are for Lancaster Amish.”
“Do you have to wear it all the time?”
She turned so they were facing each other once again. “ ‘But every woman that prayeth or prophesieth with her head uncovered dishonoureth her head; for it is one and the same thing as if she were shaven. For if the woman be not covered, let her also be shorn: but if it be a shame for a woman to be shorn or shaven, let her be covered.’ ”
“Oh, okay, so it’s a biblical thing . . .” Eric’s gaze traveled back down to her eyes. “Well, now I know, so thank you for that. Maybe next time I see someone wearing one, it won’t stand out as much now. Kinda like the purple hair I see at least a couple of times a day.”
She studied him for a few seconds and then pointed upward. “You don’t notice these buildings?”
“Not really, no.”
“But they are so . . . big.”
“To me, they’re normal. Like I imagine a farmhouse is to you.”
“If you came to Blue Ball, you wouldn’t stop to stare at farmhouses.”
“Don’t be so sure. This is different to you. That would be different to me.” He looked around at passersby and then back at Katie. “Besides, you have farm animals, don’t you?”
“Yah.”
With the help of his chin, he guided her back in the desired direction and walked beside her as they crossed the next block, heading uptown. “My parents took me to a petting farm once when I was a kid. I don’t remember a lot of things from those years, but I remember that clear as day. Especially getting to feed a pair of goats with a baby bottle. When the milk was all gone, one of ’em tried to eat my shirt.”
“My brother Samuel once lost a school paper to the Hochstetler’s goat. The teacher made him redo it.” At the next block, Katie stopped, lifted her nose upward, and inhaled. “What is that smell?”
“I don’t smell any—wait. Okay, yeah, that’s Big Ned’s.” Eric pointed to a yellow awning with red lettering halfway down the street. “Best pizza around, if you ask me.”
“That smell is pizza?”
“New York pizza, yeah.” Then, hooking his thumb across his shoulder, he took a step in that direction. “Want to stop and try some?”
Propping her hands on her hips, she narrowed her focus on Eric’s handsome face. “I’ve had pizza before, you know.”
“This is your first time in the city, right?”
“Yah.”
“Then you haven’t had pizza like this before. Which is my way of saying I’d be a pretty lousy tour guide if I didn’t take you to Big Ned’s for a slice.” He took another few steps and then stopped when it became apparent Katie wasn’t following. “C’mon, it’s already taken us an hour longer than it should have to get to this point, so what’s another twenty or thirty minutes?”
A sudden rush of warmth in her cheeks forced her eyes down to the sidewalk. “I am so sorry; I didn’t mean to be so slow when I asked to walk. It is just that everything is so big, so different.”
“Hey . . .” He closed the gap between them with three quick steps. “That wasn’t me complaining, Katie. I’ve actually enjoyed this walk more than I have in a long time, which is why I’m trying to stretch it out even further.”
“Stretch it out?”
“Yeah, by suggesting we stop for a slice of pizza.” His smile was back, along with a stomach gurgle even Katie could hear. “That and the fact all this talk about Big Ned’s has made me pretty hungry.”
“If you are sure . . .”
“Oh we’re”—Eric pointed down at his stomach—“sure, trust me.”
She followed him down to the yellow awning and through the door marked Big Ned’s. The restaurant was small, maybe five or six tables, but one step inside confirmed Eric’s belief as to the origins of the smell that had stopped Katie in her tracks.
“Mmmm, you were right. It was pizza that I smelled out there.”
“See? Now, just wait . . . That smell has got nothing on the taste.”
Five minutes later, she was in complete agreement with the man watching her first bite from across the small window-side table. “Wow. I have never had pizza like this. It-it . . . I don’t know. It is just good.”
“Welcome to New York, Katie Beiler.”
* * *
“Here we are . . .”
For the first time in more than an hour, Katie felt her smile fade. A glance at the building that now claimed Eric’s attention snuffed it out completely. “Wait. Hannah lives here? Inin this building?”
“Yup. Working for the Rothmans definitely comes with its share of perks. Like free rent and a doorman, for starters.” Eric waved to a uniformed man stationed on the other side of the door and then slipped Miss Lottie’s bag off his shoulder as the man approached. “Miss Beiler is here to see Miss Beiler in 412.”
The man who introduced himself as Martin and wore the shiniest gold buttons Katie had ever seen gave her a once-over before looking back at Eric. “You’d swear they were twins, wouldn’t you, Mr. Morgan?”
“That’s because they are twins, Martin.” Then, reaching out, Eric guided Katie to a spot just outside Martin’s earshot. “Hey, thanks for showing me New York today, Katie. I honestly can’t remember the last time I’ve had this much fun.”
Katie drew back. “But you showed New York to me.”
“That’s a matter of perspective, I think. Anyway, it was great to meet you, Katie. Really great, in fact.”
Suddenly, the unease she’d felt at the bus terminal was back. This time, though, the source of that unease was a little harder to pinpoint. Sure, being there, in New York City, was still daunting, but the past few hours with Eric had managed to soften that somehow. Until now, anyway . . .
“If Hannah is irked that it took me so long to get you here, just tell her I got lost.” Then, before she could wrap her head around what he was saying, he pulled her in for a hug that was over before she’d fully blinked. “Okay, I’ve taken enough of your time. Go inside and see your sister. Your visit is all she’s been talking about for weeks.”
He took a few steps toward the road and then stopped, his eyes and his smile finding her again. “Maybe we’ll get to see each other again before you head back home. To Blue Ball.”
And then he was gone, his occasional glance over his shoulder in her direction necessitating another wave or another smile until he was no longer in sight.
“Miss Beiler?”
At the sound of her name, she forced her attention off the sidewalk and back onto the man with the shiny buttons. “I’m sorry . . . yes, I’m ready now,” she whispered.
She followed him through the glass-paneled door and over to a nearby desk where he stopped to check a list and pick up a cream-colored telephone. “I know Miss Beiler is expecting you, but I need to let her know you’ve arrived and that I’m sending you up. In the meantime, take the elevator to—”
“Elevator?”
Nodding, he pointed toward a silver door on the other side of an interior hallway. “Take it up to the fourth floor and then turn right. Miss Beiler’s apartment is the sixth door down on the left. I’ll have your bag brought up to you in a few minutes.”
“No, I can take it.” She retrieved the bag from its brief resting spot beside the man’s desk, hoisted it onto her shoulder, and headed over to the shiny silver door, her heart pounding. When she reached it, she hunted around for a knob only to give up as the door slid open and an elderly man with a small black and white
dog stepped out.
“Just step in and press the button with the number four on it.”
She looked back at Martin and, at his nod, stepped into the box to find a series of circles with numbers on them. The four turned orange at her touch, and she watched Martin disappear from view as the door slid closed between them.
Less than ten seconds later, the door slid open again to reveal a carpeted hallway and a series of doors lining both sides. Katie took a moment to catch her breath and to straighten her kapp atop her head, but before she was completely done, the sixth door on the left opened and Hannah stepped out. “Katie! Katie! You’re here! You’re really, really here.”
“Yah.”
Hannah ran down the hallway and threw her arms around Katie. “I’ve thought about having you here so many times, but now that you actually are, I feel like I’m dreaming!”
“But you are not asleep. You are standing in a hallway hugging me.” Closing her eyes for a moment, Katie breathed in the strangely familiar potpourri of smells that clung to Hannah’s hair and clothes—smells that reminded her of Mamm and flowers and . . . baking? “You-you smell like dough.”
Hannah released her hold on Katie and stepped back, laughing. “That is because Jack and I made homemade sugar cookies today after his nap, and I made sure to bring one home for you.”
“That was nice, thank you.”
Hannah plucked Miss Lottie’s bag from Katie’s hands and led her through the open door. “I thought for sure you were going to be here when I got back from work and”—Hannah stopped, spread her free arm wide, and grinned—“welcome to my new home, Katie. It’s pretty incredible, isn’t it?”
Slowly, tentatively, Katie made her way into Hannah’s apartment, her mind registering everything within eyesight—the white couch and red pillows, the television atop a nearby stand, the bookshelves lining the walls with a smattering of books and framed photographs of Travis on a bridge, Travis in a car, Travis eating a pretzel, and Travis . . . kissing the air?
She swung her attention to the left and noted a small table with two chairs and a shiny napkin holder on top. Beyond that, in a room not much bigger than one of the horse stalls in Dat’s barn, was a kitchen with white cabinets and black sparkly countertops.
Portrait of a Sister Page 8
