by Amy Clipston
“That wasn’t so bad.” He turned to her. “Actually, it was kind of fun.”
She thought so, too, but she wouldn’t dwell on that. She grabbed some wax paper, wrapped a hot pie in it, and handed it to him. “Here. Enjoy. Just don’t burn yer tongue.”
“I appreciate the warning.” He took a small bite, and his eyes grew wide.
“Best ones you ever had?”
“Definitely. I’m glad I didn’t ruin them.”
She picked off the corner of a pie and put it in her mouth. The crust was flaky, which wouldn’t have been the case if she hadn’t used fresh dough.
“I’ll help you clean up,” he said.
The thought of standing close to him while they washed dishes had her shaking her head. She couldn’t do that, not when she was finally on an even keel. “I’ll get it. I’m going to make another mess anyway.”
“You sure?”
“Ya.”
“Then I guess I’ll head to Thomas’s. Unless you need something else.”
Surely he wasn’t stalling. “Nee. You’ve done enough for me.”
“I haven’t done that much.”
He was understating his contribution, and she wasn’t surprised. I’m going to miss him. Quickly, she grabbed another pie and wrapped it in wax paper. “One for the road.”
He looked at the pie in his hand. “Danki.” He lifted his gaze to hers. “I know we’ll see each other at church tomorrow, but in case we don’t get a chance to talk . . .” He glanced down at his shoes before looking at her again. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Carolyn.”
“Same here,” she said softly.
He nodded, then turned and left.
When he was gone, the bakery—and her heart—seemed emptier than it ever had.
CHAPTER 8
Carolyn traveled with Freemont and his family to church the next morning. They took two buggies, the adults in one and the three boys in the other. Once they arrived, she still held back, politely greeting everyone but not being too open or friendly. Yet for the first time she wished things were different. She wished she hadn’t disappointed the people she left behind. She wanted to feel a part of this town that had changed so much. Maybe she would after her bakery opened and she proved Emmanuel wrong.
She went inside the barn and took a seat right before the service started. She looked over at the other side of the church where the men sat and saw Thomas Bontrager. Thomas’s sons surrounded him. They ranged from preschool to teenager, and they had become good friends with her nephews. Then she saw Atlee. Her heart warmed again, but her mind splashed cold water on it as she reminded herself he was leaving tomorrow. She pulled her gaze from him and focused on the service.
When church was over, she tried not to look for Atlee and stayed to the side as everyone visited. They had said their goodbyes yesterday, in the privacy of the bakery. She would rather have done it there than here among the rest of the community. Yet she couldn’t help sneaking a few glances around to see where he was.
“I hear you’re opening yer bakery next week.” Cevilla Schlabach approached her, leaning on her cane as she walked. She was more than eighty years old, but she had a youthful soul. “I can’t wait to taste yer bread twists. Mary says they’re the first treats I should try.”
Carolyn smiled. “I’ll make sure to save you some.”
Leaning closer, Cevilla said, “I also heard you’ve been spending some time with Atlee Shetler.”
Her cheeks grew hot. Was she the subject of gossip now?
“Oh, don’t worry. Nee one’s talking about it. Not like you think.” She nodded and gestured behind Carolyn. “There’s that charming young mann now.”
Carolyn had to resist turning around. She also had to resist chuckling. Atlee wasn’t exactly young, but in Cevilla’s eyes, she guessed, everyone was.
“Ignoring him, I see.” Cevilla gave her a crafty smile.
“I’m not ignoring anyone,” she snapped. Then she apologized. “That was uncalled for.”
Cevilla’s expression turned from crafty to serious. “It’s difficult to do things all by yerself. Makes a person tired and lonely. Gut thing you’ve at least had Atlee and yer bruder to help you.”
“Ya,” she said softly. “Gut thing.”
Cevilla put her hand on Carolyn’s arm. “Don’t fight it too long.” She patted her sleeve, then said, “Oh, there’s Joanna Byler. She’s another excellent cook. The two of you should swap recipes.” With steps slowed by age, she started toward the woman.
Carolyn saw Joanna talking with her sisters, Abigail and Sadie. The three of them had been young girls when Carolyn left, and now they were all married and had children.
She set those thoughts aside as she pondered Cevilla’s words. What had the woman meant? What was she fighting? Nothing, as far as she could tell. Everything was finally on track.
Atlee took a walk after an early supper. His mind was troubled, and it hadn’t been focused on the service today, which also bothered him. No, he’d been thinking about Carolyn. It had taken everything in his power to keep from seeking her out at church, even though they had parted ways at the bakery. Still, he wanted to see her again, and that was a problem.
He was so confused. Inside he was warring with guilt over his attraction to Carolyn and his devotion to May’s memory. He’d never been so conflicted. Everything in his life had been straightforward—except when May died. And even then, after he settled into his grief, his life was uncomplicated. But the past year he’d changed. Something had shifted inside him, and that shift was continuing, although this time he knew the catalyst.
He had to ignore those feelings. That would be easy enough once he was back in Fredericktown. Then he could return to his normal life—a life that, though he’d been restless and lonely, unexpectedly didn’t appeal to him at all anymore.
He found himself in front of Freemont’s home. That wasn’t surprising considering the short distance between the houses. The fact that he stopped was. Even more so, the fact that he was considering paying Carolyn another visit, although he didn’t have a reason to, befuddled him. See how confused I am, Lord? Mei thoughts are more jumbled than a thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle.
He should just go back to the Bontragers’. He could take a nap. Or even better, pray for clarity. He could do a number of things on a Sunday evening besides visit Carolyn Yoder.
But none of them appealed to him more.
Atlee’s palms grew damp as he approached the front door. He wiped them on the thighs of his broadfall pants. He also took off his hat and smoothed his hair before replacing the hat on his head and knocking on the door.
Freemont answered. They’d met at church that morning, and Atlee had immediately liked him. “Hello, Atlee. What brings you by?”
“Uh . . .” He cleared his throat. “I was wondering, if, um . . .”
“Carolyn is home?”
Atlee nodded, wondering how Freemont knew he was going to ask about her. Had Carolyn said something to her brother about him? The idea that she might be mentioning him to her family made him feel warm inside.
“She went for a walk. She usually does on Sunday afternoons, and she’s not back yet.”
“Ah. Sorry I missed her, then.”
Freemont’s expression remained blank. “Should I tell her you stopped by?”
He paused. “Nee, that’s fine.”
“All right. We’ll see you around, then.”
“Actually, I’m leaving tomorrow.”
“I see. Traveling mercies, then. Hopefully you’ll come back and visit soon.”
Atlee nodded and left. Would he be back? Other than visiting the Bontragers, he wouldn’t have a reason. Except for Carolyn.
He went back to Thomas’s, but then he decided to keep going. He knew Carolyn wasn’t at the bakery since it was Sunday, but he had to look at it again. Sear it in his memory. Remember the place and the woman who had brought him back to life.
When he arrived, though, the front door wa
s open. Odd. His heartbeat sped up. Maybe she had stopped by too. He could see her for the last time. He went to the closed screen door. “Carolyn?” he said, opening the door and walking inside, expecting to see her in the kitchen where she always was.
But what he saw froze his blood.
CHAPTER 9
Ruined. It’s all ruined.
Carolyn knelt in the middle of her bakery’s outer room, too shocked to move.
Devastation surrounded her. She’d decided to take her usual Sunday afternoon walk, knowing the exercise combined with nature always fed her soul. But as she passed by the bakery, she couldn’t keep herself from stopping in front of it. She marveled at Atlee’s handiwork, still touched by the sign. That’s when she noticed the inside door was open. Panicked, she went in, and what she found turned her dream to dust.
Graffiti had been sprayed on every wall. The glass display cases were smashed. The counter was also covered in graffiti, some of it vile. The adding machine was broken, pieces strewn on the floor. The stainless-steel table was upended, and someone had marked up all the counters with a knife. Even the small label cards she’d carefully written by hand were torn and scattered. She didn’t dare go into the kitchen. She knew she would find much of the same, and she couldn’t face that right now.
“Carolyn.”
She didn’t turn around at the deep, gentle voice coming from behind her. Atlee. What was he doing here? The question sat in the back of her mind, but she couldn’t bring herself to care why. She was numb. She had failed. There was no coming back from this, no proving herself to the community. No showing Emmanuel Troyer, even though he wasn’t here, that she had made something of herself. That he hadn’t broken her. She’d ended up broken anyway.
She sensed Atlee kneeling beside her. Felt his hand on her shoulder. Strong. Stable. Just like him. Still, she couldn’t look at him.
“What happened?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” Her throat felt thick, as if she had a bread twist stuck in it.
“Did you call the police?”
She shrugged. “Nee.”
“You need to do that, Carolyn.”
“Doesn’t matter.” She pushed away his hand and stood. “Nix matters anymore.”
“You’re wrong about that.” He stood as well and stepped in front of her. She looked up at him. “This”—he gestured to the devastation around them—“matters very much. You put yer heart and soul into this place. We’re not going to let all that effort geh to waste.”
“We? There is nee we, Atlee.” She poured her frustration out on him. “I’ve always said that. I will succeed . . . and fail”—she choked on the last word—“on mei own. I don’t need anyone . . . especially you.”
He regarded her for a moment, and she expected a flash of anger in his eyes. Instead he said, “I know you’re upset, so I’m not taking those words to heart. I know what it’s like to lose something important to you. Something you love.”
His words brought her out of her fury, her heart pinching with guilt. “Atlee, this doesn’t compare to May—”
“Nee, it doesn’t. You can bring yer business back. May . . .” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “The point is you’re hurting. This is a loss to you. I’m just letting you know I understand how you feel. That you don’t need anyone, or want anyone. You believe you must exist on yer own, because you can’t be hurt again. You wouldn’t survive it. But that only works for a little while, and if you’re not careful, you’ll end up empty inside. You’ll wake up every morning wondering why you’re still here.”
Somehow the conversation had taken an unexpected turn. “Atlee, I’m sorry.”
“You can’t keep pushing people away, Carolyn. Especially when you’re grieving. We’re not meant to get through this life alone. I think I’m finally understanding that.” He took a step back. “I’ll be here when you need me, Carolyn. That’s a promise.”
She watched him leave the bakery—or what used to be the bakery. She tried to absorb his words, to understand what he had realized, but for herself. She didn’t have to be alone.
Dread pooled inside as she went into the kitchen. As she’d suspected, it was in even worse shape. In a daze, she went to the phone shanty. Her fingers shook as she dialed nine-one-one. “Hello,” she said when dispatch answered. She gripped the receiver. “I need your help.”
Atlee realized he’d walked past Thomas’s house, almost to Freemont’s. Should he tell Carolyn’s brother what happened? Of course, he would find out soon enough, and Carolyn said she wanted to be left alone. But he couldn’t walk away. Not from this. Not from Carolyn.
He looked up at the sky. I want to be true to May’s memory. But I can’t keep living this way. He closed his eyes. Show me what to do, Lord.
After she called the police, Carolyn went back inside and started sweeping up broken glass. She was working on Sunday, but surely God would understand that she needed to get all the shards of glass off the floor before someone was hurt. She let out a bitter sound. No one would be here to hurt themselves. She wasn’t opening the bakery next week . . . or ever.
She got a dustpan. When she came back, she saw her brother standing in the front doorway. Of course. She should have known Atlee would tell him. She turned her back to him as she swept the glass pieces into the dustpan.
Freemont let out a long whistle, and unlike hers, his was on key. “Gut grief. What a mess.”
She whirled around. “Is that all you have to say?”
He put his hands into his pockets. “What else do you want me to say?”
Sometimes she didn’t understand her brother. He could be as emotionless as a stone, but she knew his heart was made of pure gold. “You don’t have to be here. The police are on their way.”
“You called them?”
“Ya, I did.”
“Well, that’s a surprise. I figured you would try to find the people who did this yerself.”
“I’m not a detective, and you don’t have to be sarcastic.”
Freemont went to her. “Carolyn, I’m sorry.”
The tenderness in his voice made her look at him. She and her brother usually got along well, and as they were growing up they were good friends, even though they had the usual sibling spats. Since it was just the two of them, they were kind of a team too. Then he got married and they moved to Birch Creek. That’s when her life fell apart. The years of distance were keenly felt now that she was standing in the middle of her destroyed bakery. “Danki for yer concern.”
“I mean it. Why are you being so stubborn about accepting help? About being a part of this community again?” He paused. “Is this about Emmanuel?”
Her jaw dropped. “What do you know about Emmanuel?”
Storm clouds gathered in Freemont’s eyes. “I learned a lot about that mann, especially after he left the district. And I also know he was the reason you left.”
Carolyn stared at him. “Who told you that?”
“I saw you going into his haus that day. I was driving past, by coincidence. I knew you would only geh see him under duress since you two didn’t see eye-to-eye on a lot of things. I was concerned, and Rhoda let me in. I waited in the living room while you were in his office. When Rhoda went to get kaffee, I got up and listened near the doorway to hear what you were talking about.”
“You eavesdropped?”
“I was worried.” He swallowed. “I couldn’t make out anything, but I knew when something had happened. You were so angry you stormed out of his office and didn’t even see me—or recognize my horse and buggy. You left for Nappanee the next morning.”
Carolyn thought back to that day. She’d been doing more of that this week than she had in the past eighteen years. All she saw that day was red fury at Emmanuel’s threat and insults. “If you knew something was wrong, why didn’t you say anything?”
“Believe me, I’ve asked myself that same question over the years.” He looked at the glass-strewn floor, then back at her. “But I also t
hought it might be for the best. You were chafing under him, Carolyn. We all knew that, just like we knew you were destined for something different.” He took a step toward her. “Things here have changed now. You had to have noticed that since you came back.”
She had, but it didn’t change anything for her. She’d failed.
He put his hand on her shoulder and gently turned her to face him. “Carolyn, you don’t have to prove anything to anyone here. I’m sure whatever Emmanuel said to you that day wasn’t true. And maybe I should have gone after you, but I think you did the right thing by leaving. You escaped some bad things happening here. But when you said you would finally come back, I was so happy. I’ve missed mei schwester.” His eyes turned glassy. “You have to let me in. You have to let other people care about you. Nee one will ever hurt you like that again.”
“How do you know that?” she said, her voice trembling.
“Because we care about you. Some of us even love you, believe it or not. I wish you could see that. I know how much you love this bakery and want to see it succeed. I want to help you succeed. So does mei familye and the rest of the familyes here in Birch Creek, even the ones you don’t know very well yet. We need to do this together. Please let us.”
Carolyn’s heart started to break, the ice around it thawing. Tears flowed down her cheeks. “I don’t know how to accept help,” she said. “I’ve done everything on mei own for so long.”
“Then we’ll show you. I’ll send out word, and everyone who’s available to help this week will come and get this place back in shape so you’ll be able to open for business. I’ll also talk to the elders about using some money from the community fund to help you replace what can’t be repaired.”
“It can’t be done,” she whispered. “It’s too much.”
“Not for us. And not for God.” He looked at her. “Now, I’ll stay with you until the police have come and gone. Then come home with me. Let’s figure all this out together.”
