The Innkeeper's Bride

by Kathleen Fuller

  “Is needlepointers a word?” He flipped open the lid of the syrup bottle.

  “It is now.” She sat down across from him.

  “What about stamp collectors? Are they invited?”

  She peered at him over her glasses. “If they’re female, then ya. Yes.” She was careful to speak only English with Richard, but occasionally she slipped into Dietsch.

  “Doesn’t sound all that inclusive to me.”

  “Are you saying your feelings are hurt?” Her mouth twitched.

  “Stamp collecting is a solitary endeavor anyway, so no. I’m not.” He smiled and winked before pouring syrup over his toast. Sugar-free, of course. During their eighteen months together as friends, she’d been mindful of his dietary needs, and according to his last checkup, he had excellent laboratory numbers. He’d moved here from California, but he still insisted on seeing his doctor in LA. Those visits also allowed him to spend time with his daughter, Sharon, and granddaughter, Meghan. Meghan had been out to visit only once since she’d accompanied Richard when he showed up on Cevilla’s doorstep after decades of their being apart.

  Little had she known that day that her future, which she had always thought was set in concrete in her dotage, would change forever.

  He set the syrup down on the table. “Shall we pray?”

  Cevilla bowed her head for silent prayer, and as usual, not only did she thank God for the food and ask him to bless it, but she prayed for Meghan and Sharon and a good dose of patience. Lately she’d needed patience more than ever. To the rest of the community—except for her nephew, Noah, and his wife, Ivy—she and Richard were just friends. But there was more between them than that. Respect, understanding, and yes, romantic love.

  But roadblocks were in the way, not the least of which that if they were to marry, Richard would have to join the Amish church. But he hadn’t decided about that yet. He would also be leaving his family behind in California—for good except for visits. She knew he talked to Meghan as much as possible. The two were very close. But they hadn’t talked recently, because she was so busy trying to get her interior design business off the ground.

  Then there was his daughter, Sharon, Meghan’s mother, whom he rarely talked about. Cevilla had the impression that she didn’t approve of his moving to Birch Creek, and she hadn’t come to visit him since he’d left LA. One thing Cevilla did know—the woman refused to talk to her. She’d called her more than once, but she always got voice mail, and Sharon never returned her messages.

  All she could do was put the situation in God’s hands. Yer will be done.

  She opened her eyes, and then she picked up a tiny dish with a bit of powdered sugar in it and sprinkled it over her toast.

  “I think your idea of a gathering is a good one.” Richard took a sip of orange juice. “What made you think of it?”

  “In Iowa, we used to get together all the time for quilting bees. I didn’t care for quilting, so I always took my crochet. I enjoyed the company. But when I moved here, social gatherings were few and far between. That had taken some getting used to. Actually I’m not sure I was ever really used to it.”

  “From my understanding of the Amish, socializing is extremely important.”

  “It is.”

  “Then why wasn’t it here? Because of the bishop?”

  Early on she’d told him about Emmanuel Troyer, the bishop who started the Birch Creek community more than twenty years ago. Emmanuel had been a greedy man, and not until he left had Cevilla realized how much of a pall he’d cast over Birch Creek. But even though she hadn’t understood why, the Lord had led her here years ago, and she’d obeyed. Birch Creek, for all its past and present faults, was her home, and she couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.

  “I’m not sure it was only because of Emmanuel,” she said, picking up her fork. “The community never felt truly cohesive until Freemont became the bishop. When Emmanuel left, several families moved away too. Those of us who stayed have grown closer.”

  He nodded and took a bite of his french toast. After he swallowed, he said, “I’ve always admired the closeness of the Amish communities. Back in Los Angeles and in other large cities in general, a lot of people are around, but one can still feel isolated.” He gave Cevilla a warm smile. “Remember how close we all were in Arnold City?”

  She nodded, thinking back to the small Pennsylvania city where she and Richard had spent their formative years. “You could always count on your neighbor, whether he was next door or three streets over.”

  “The milkman still delivered milk, televisions were rare, and we had a parade for every holiday.” He sighed. “I miss that.”

  “Well, we don’t do parades here,” she said softly. “But when there’s a need, you can count on anyone in Birch Creek to lend a hand.”

  “I know.”

  Her heart skipped. Was he trying to tell her something else? Had he finally decided? He’d moved to Birch Creek from California more than a year ago, and he was practically a member of the community already. All he needed to do was get baptized. That was no small thing, but they were both in their eighties, and time was a precious commodity. She could practically hear it ticking away as she held her breath while he held her gaze. Then he dipped another piece of toast into the puddled syrup on his plate without saying anything else.

  Her breath rushed out like a popped balloon. Patience, remember? I asked for patience. It’s not exactly mei virtue. But despite her prayers, she wished the man would stop dragging his feet. “Wasn’t that a lovely wedding last week?” she said, hoping to draw him into a conversation that was well past due.

  “Um-hum.” He finished his french toast and then picked up the copy of the local paper he’d brought with him this morning.

  Okay, that didn’t work. She tried a different tack. “Have you talked to Sharon and Meghan recently?”

  Richard nodded. “Meghan’s doing well. Sharon . . . well, she’s Sharon.” He unfolded the paper.

  “What does that mean?”

  He glanced up at her before looking over the front page. “My daughter is a bit stubborn.” He put the newspaper in front of his face.

  Cevilla lightly tapped her finger on the table. She had half a mind to call the woman and ask her what her problem was—if she would even answer her phone. But Richard wouldn’t like that. If only he were more willing to talk about what had happened between them. He talked to her about everything else—his late wife, Nancy, his flourishing businesses in California, Meghan, the past . . . Very little about the future, though. And even though she wanted to force him to open up about both Sharon and his thoughts on their future, she couldn’t bring herself to do that. She let out a long sigh.

  He pulled down a corner of the paper and peered at her. “You all right?”

  “Dandy,” she said, forcing a smile. “Everything’s dandy.”

  Richard grinned and went back to reading the paper. Conversation closed.

  The next morning, Cevilla dressed for church and waited for Noah and Ivy to pick her up in their buggy. While she enjoyed having company on the way to church, she missed driving her own horse and buggy. That part of her independence had been hard to give up.

  Richard had told her last night that he was attending the Mennonite church in Barton again. When Noah and Ivy arrived and she stepped onto the front porch, she glanced at the house he’d built next door when he moved to Birch Creek. She frowned. His car was gone.

  A short while later they arrived at the Chupp farm, where the service was being held, and she entered their expansive barn. She pushed Richard out of her mind and settled in for worship, glancing around like she usually did before the service started. Couples and children were everywhere, and several young, single men sat next to one another. Most of them were from the Bontrager family. Newly married Seth, along with his brothers, Ira and Judah, sat behind them.

  Selah came in behind her brother, Christian, and sister-in-law, Ruby. Cevilla thought about her conversation with Selah a
t Martha’s wedding. She hadn’t been completely truthful with the young woman, a fact that had pricked her conscience. Yes, God was all she needed, she did live a contented life, and any regrets she had she’d taken to the Lord. But it did bother her that she was single, something she hadn’t felt until she’d fallen in love with Richard.

  Bother. There she was again, thinking about him. She turned her focus to the front of the barn and waited for the singing to start. Once the service was in full swing, her every thought and feeling was turned toward the Lord.

  Following the service, Cevilla had spent some time visiting with friends before Noah and Ivy approached her. She noticed Noah’s pale complexion, which alarmed her. “Are you all right?” she asked when he stopped in front of her.

  He nodded at the same time Ivy shook her head. “Nee, he’s not. He hasn’t been feeling too well this morning,” she said. “But he insisted on coming to church.”

  “I’m fine,” he said, but his normally strong voice lacked its usual punch.

  “We need to geh straight home,” Ivy said to Cevilla.

  “Is it the Meniere’s?” she asked, turning to Noah.

  “Ya,” he said, admitting the truth quietly.

  Her heart went out to her nephew. His disease affected his hearing enough that he had to wear hearing aids, and despite the medication he was on, he sometimes still had bouts of vertigo and nausea. The illness had also taken away his ability to be an auctioneer, a profession he’d loved. But that hadn’t stopped him from having another career, one he shared with Ivy. Their antiques store was thriving in Barton.

  Ivy reached for his hand and gave it a quick squeeze, and then she looked at Cevilla. “I’m sorry we’re not staying for the meal.”

  “That’s fine.” She waved her hand. “I’m a little tired myself. And if I wanted to stay, I wouldn’t have a problem finding a ride.”

  “We’ll get the buggy,” Ivy said.

  A short while later, with Ivy driving the buggy, she and Noah dropped Cevilla off at home. She didn’t invite them inside, as she might have if Noah was feeling like himself. She knew he would try to sleep off his symptoms once home. Come to think of it, a nap sounded nice right now. She bid her family good-bye and then glanced at the empty space in Richard’s driveway where he usually parked his car. He must still be at the Mennonite church. What—or who—drew him there? She banged the end of her cane on the porch before going inside.

  She tamped down the unexpected spike of jealousy. She’d never been a jealous woman. Then again, she’d never had reason to be.

  “Poppycock!” she exclaimed to the empty house. Then she removed her coat and black bonnet and placed them on pegs near the front door. “Jealousy doesn’t become you, Cevilla Schlabach.” There was no point in dwelling on what she didn’t know, and it wasn’t Richard’s fault she was short on patience. She loved him, and she knew he loved her. The rest would sort out itself.

  She decided to take that nap. If Richard came by after church, fine. If not, then fine. She didn’t have to be around him twenty-four hours a day—even though she wanted to.

  Chapter 2

  “Isn’t it nice to come home to a delicious meal?”

  Selah glanced at Ruby, who was prodding Christian’s arm as they sat down at the table. She had spent today, like she’d spent the last two weeks since the wedding, making sure the house was spotless and meals were prepared and ready on time for her brother and sister-in-law. When Selah and Christian had lived together, Selah’s motivation to clean house and cook meals had been almost nonexistent. Looking back, she realized how unfair she’d been to Christian, who had been putting in extra hours to establish himself as an excellent teacher. She’d given him a small amount of support and a large amount of trouble.

  Christian arched his brow at Selah, which he often did when he was considering an answer. “Yer cooking has been more than adequate.”

  “Is that all you have to say?” Ruby frowned at Christian.

  But Selah knew her brother well, and in his unique way, he’d given her a compliment. “Danki,” she said, smiling.

  Ruby turned to her. “I can’t tell you how much we appreciate what you do around here. School has been so hectic”—she looked at Christian again—“because someone keeps changing his mind about the Christmas program.”

  Christian looked at her coolly. “Yer ideas, unlike Selah’s culinary skills, are inadequate.”

  “That’s not what you said when I first presented them.”

  “That’s because I was half asleep. Three a.m. is not an appropriate time to present yer Christmas play proposal.”

  Selah dipped her spoon in the bowl of chicken noodle soup and ignored their bickering. She didn’t mind it. She realized soon after she’d moved in that they enjoyed arguing with each other. She thought it was strange, but then again, Christian was strange, and Ruby was odd in her own way. They were a perfect couple.

  But even though she didn’t mind their squabbles, she still wanted to move out. Being the third wheel was getting old, and while she put all her effort into cleaning and cooking, she wanted an income. Trouble was, she hadn’t been able to find a job, and she was getting restless—not to mention a little anxious.

  She had used the shanty phone yesterday to call Anne, who asked her why she hadn’t found a new counselor yet. That was another issue. Her parents had paid for her therapy with Anne, but she didn’t want to depend on them this time. She also didn’t want to ask Christian for the money, even though she knew he would give it to her without question. Until she had a job, she wouldn’t have a therapist. “I don’t know why I can’t keep calling you,” she’d said to Anne.

  “I thought you said you wanted to start a new life.”

  “I do.”

  “How is that possible if you’re still clinging to parts of the old one?”

  Anne had a point, but that hadn’t settled Selah’s anxiety.

  “Enough.”

  Ruby’s tone, which now had a bit of a sharp edge to it, brought Selah out of her thoughts. She looked up to see Christian’s contrite expression.

  “I’m sure Selah doesn’t want to listen to this.” Ruby looked at her. “I’m sorry.”

  “Me too,” Christian said, his tone meek.

  Selah almost laughed. Christian, meek? He was a humble man, but with his high intelligence, insistence on using complicated English vocabulary, and overall quirkiness, he sometimes came across as condescending. Obviously Ruby knew when to bring him down to earth.

  “How was yer day?” Ruby took a sip of her iced tea.

  Boring. “Gut.” She picked up the basket of rolls she’d baked this afternoon. The tops were golden, and even she’d been impressed with how they turned out. “Roll?”

  “Danki.” Ruby took one and then put the basket back on the table.

  “Is that all?” Christian asked.

  She looked at her brother and saw the doubt in his eyes. Ever since that day she’d almost made a mistake that would have ruined her life, he was attuned to her needs. That hadn’t been the case when they were growing up. “Ya,” she said, her voice firm. “It was fine.”

  “You said it was gut.”

  “Fine, gut, same thing.”

  “But they’re not.” He lifted his spoon. “Fine indicates something is acceptable.”

  “Like mei cooking?” She rolled her eyes.

  “While gut means something is pleasing. Satisfactory. You, Selah, do not seem satisfied.”

  “Christian,” Ruby said, putting her hand on his arm.

  “It’s okay, Ruby. He’s right. I’m not exactly satisfied.”

  “Is it something we’ve done?” Ruby’s eyes filled with worry. “Something Christian said?”

  “I’m not the only one who misspeaks,” Christian said.

  Ruby ignored him. “If we can do something to make things better for you, please tell us.”

  Selah smiled. Ruby was so sweet. “It’s nix you or Christian have done or said.”
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br />   “I think you’re overworked.” Christian stirred his soup.

  “How can I be overworked if I don’t have a job?”

  “You’ve been working hard here,” Ruby said, nodding at Christian. “I’ve never been in a cleaner haus.”

  “Ruby is correct. Perhaps you should find a job, Selah.”

  She sat back in her chair. “I’ve been trying. I check the want ads in the paper every day. There’s nix I’m qualified to do. Do you know if anyone is hiring around here?”

  “Nee, I don’t.” Ruby drummed her fingers against the table and then looked at Christian. “Do you?”

  “I suggest you check at Carolyn Yoder’s bakery. Conceivably she could be hiring, considering it’s the Christmas season.”

  “Would you want to work in a bakery?” Ruby asked her.

  “I’d work anywhere. I really want a job. I’ll stop there tomorrow morning.” She sipped her soup again. “Danki for the idea, Christian.”

  “You are welcome.”

  Later, when Selah started to clear the table, Ruby stopped her. “I’ll clean the kitchen tonight. You can geh relax in the living room.”

  “I’ll do it,” Selah said.

  “You will not.” Ruby crossed her arms and lifted her chin.

  “There’s nee use in arguing,” Christian said, moving to stand beside his wife. “Her obstinacy has nee match.”

  “That’s right.” Ruby tilted her head toward him. “What’s obstinacy?”

  “Stubbornness.”

  Selah chuckled and started for the living room. But before she left, she saw Christian put his arm around Ruby’s shoulders, and she leaned against him. She was seeing the softer side of her brother she hadn’t even known existed. He had learned how to love and how to be a good husband. He was satisfied.

  If there was hope for him, there was hope for her. Right, Lord?

  She went into the living room and sat down on the couch. For some reason Levi Stoll came to mind. She’d thought about him once before since Martha’s wedding, and she knew she’d been rude to him before leaving the Detweilers’. True, she’d been ready to go home, but she’d also been reminded of the troubles Martha had with the single men in the community before she and Seth dated. She didn’t know Levi, and she didn’t want to give him any ideas. Still, she could have been nicer about it. Once again, she’d made a mistake.