Footsteps came thundering down the stairs as M.K. flew into the kitchen with Amos’s breakfast tray. She passed it off to Fern and ran to the door. “Sadie! Gideon Smucker is here! He’s so sweet on you he can’t put two words together in a sentence.” She waved her arm like a windmill. “Come on, Sadie! Let’s go see his ears turn red when he tries!”
“Oh, M.K. Schtille,” Sadie said. Quiet. But she smoothed out her hair and dress and followed behind M.K. Menno hurried to join them.
“Well, well, maybe Sadie might be willing to consider other fellows besides Rome, after all,” Fern said.
“Rome doesn’t mind sharing one devotee,” Julia said, picking up the laundry basket of sheets. “There’s plenty of other girls to take Sadie’s place.”
Rome wasn’t paying any attention to them. He was frowning at Amos’s breakfast tray. “He hardly ate a thing.”
Later that day, M.K. hurried home from school. She had told everyone at school about the pygmy goats and couldn’t wait to see them. She ran through the kitchen to drop off her lunch pail and grab a snack. Fern caught her, gave her a large white bucket, and told her to pick some cherries as long as she was lollygagging in the orchards.
Lollygagging? Fern! So bothersome. As if M.K. ever lollygagged.
She slipped through the wire fencing that Rome and Menno and Uncle Hank had fixed up and walked among the small goats. There were goats of all colors, and they looked up at M.K. with mild interest before turning back to their weeds. She picked a favorite—a small black-and-white female goat with peaceful eyes—petted her for a while, then took her white bucket to start picking cherries. The bucket was about a quarter of the way full when she heard laughing sounds, like a hyena. Or jackals. Or . . . ! She jumped off the ladder and scanned the orchard for the source of that hideous noise—it came from Jimmy Fisher and his sidekick, Arthur King. They were laughing so hard they had to hold their sides.
She stomped over to them and called over the fence. “What’s so funny?”
“That!” Jimmy said, pointing behind her. She turned around to see a large goat that stood out from the rest. He surveyed his new home with an air of disdain and shook his head.
She knew that particular billy goat! “You stole Ira Smucker’s goat, Jimmy!”
“Didn’t steal him,” Jimmy laughed. “Just borrowed him!”
M.K. pointed at him. “Don’t you know that the ninth commandment says ‘do not lie’?”
Jimmy nudged his friend, Arthur. “Loss dich net verwiche, is es elft Gebot.” “Don’t get caught” is the eleventh commandment.
M.K. heard a bleating sound and her head swiveled in its direction. Ira Smucker’s yellow billy had lowered its head and was charging right at her. M.K. darted to the nearest cherry tree and climbed it. The goat bumped his head against the trunk of the cherry tree several times for good measure. Each time, Jimmy and Arthur’s laughing fit started up again. M.K.’s outrage nearly choked her, and she could barely hold on to her temper. She was trapped in a tree with a mad billy goat underneath her, and Jimmy and Arthur were enjoying her humiliation at a safe distance.
Boys! So horrible! She broke off branches and threw them down at the billy, but he only chewed up the branches. He gazed at her with his weird yellow eyes as if to thank her for the snack.
Finally, the yellow billy returned to the rest of the herd who had continued eating, unconcerned with the big intruder. M.K. slipped carefully down the tree. She knew she had to get that pail before the billy goat ate up her cherries. She tiptoed over to the pail, bent to get it, heard another bleating sound, and turned to find the billy charging at her with lowered head. She didn’t have time to get to a tree, so she took the pail and jammed it on top of the billy goat’s head. He shook and shook his head, trying to get that pail off of him. If M.K. weren’t so furious with Jimmy and Arthur, she might have even enjoyed the ridiculous sight. As it was, she lost her cherries and her pail. The other goats milled around, curious, and finished off the cherries that scattered on the ground.
Then she picked up a big stick and eyed Jimmy and Arthur, tapping it in her hands a few times. They started backing up and took off running. M.K. ran to the fence, bent over to slip through, when a big arm scooped her up. The arm belonged to Rome, and her legs were dangling in the air like riding a bicycle. “Let me at ’em!”
“They’re halfway home by now, M.K.” He set her down and took the stick out of her hands. “Using a stick is no way to get even with those two.”
She stomped her foot. “They’re the scum of the earth! The worst of the worst!” She started to take off after them, but Rome grabbed her shoulders.
“Now you just calm down.” He waited until she stopped struggling, then released her. “You stay put while I go get that billy.” He pointed his finger at her in a warning way as he jumped over the fence. She saw that he had a rope with him. He looped it around the billy goat’s neck and carefully pulled the bucket off the goat’s head.
He led the yellow billy out through a makeshift gate into an empty pasture, then returned for her. As they walked back to the house, Rome said, “Jimmy is hoping he’ll get you upset, M.K. You’d have the upper hand if you didn’t always overreact to him.”
M.K. scowled at him.
“Have you thought about just trying to let it go?”
“Let it go? Let it go?” Her voice rose an octave.
“This will just keep getting worse. Jimmy does something mean to you. You do something mean right back to him. Why not try something different? Don’t work out a plan to get even with him. Maybe . . . turn the other cheek.”
M.K. knew where this was heading. Hadn’t she been in church for her whole entire life? Before Rome could start in on a lecture about loving your enemies, she cut him off at the quick. “That might work with some folks. But the problem with Jimmy Fisher is that by the time you’ve turned the other cheek a couple of times,” she patted her face, “you start running out of cheeks.”
11
Sadie had borrowed Julia’s hand mirror while she was in town. Lately, Sadie studied herself in mirrors as she hadn’t before. She wasn’t overly encouraged by what she saw.
“You look better today than you did a week ago,” Fern said.
Sadie whipped around. Fern was leaning against the doorjamb with some freshly ironed prayer caps in her hands. How long had she been there? Sadie was mortified! Fern came into Sadie’s room and opened a bureau drawer to tuck away the prayer caps. While Fern’s head was down, preoccupied with the messy condition of the drawer, Sadie held the mirror out to get a better look at herself. Maybe Fern was right. Even though it had only been a week, Sadie’s tummy didn’t seem to stick out so far, maybe because she didn’t have so much time to eat. Fern was forever sending her on errands, and she made Sadie walk, not take the buggy. And every time she wandered into the kitchen for a snack, Fern found something important for her to do right away—take notes from some books about healing herbs, help Menno harvest fruit in the orchard, dig out a new section of Julia’s garden to add another section to the herb garden. And this was all on top of her daily chores! There was hardly a moment to rest. To eat.
Fern refolded everything in the drawer and closed it with a satisfied sound. She turned to Sadie and frowned. “Grab that book over there, put it on your head, and walk.”
Sadie didn’t want to, but she crossed the room toward the table and put the book she found there on top of her head. It slid off right away. She picked it up and tried again with a little more success. Three steps, before it fell and crashed to the floor.
Fern folded her arms across her front. “That was better. I want you to walk like this from now on, got it? Back straight, shoulders straight. The way I do.” Fern carried herself as if she had a fire poker strapped to her spine, but there was a poise about her that Sadie longed to emulate. All starch.
Sadie walked across the room with the book carefully perched on her head. She felt taller, more grown-up. And less like a person who was
scared of her own shadow.
Rome finished packing up a few things he would need for a trip to the other side of the county. Jacob Glick had made him promise to bring a beehive over right as his pecans started to blossom. Last year, even with the drought, Jacob’s pecan crop doubled in production. “The time is now!” Jacob’s phone message had said. Rome would move the hive onto the wagon tonight, after sunset, so the bees wouldn’t be stressed by the move.
He glanced around the cottage. Had he forgotten anything? His eyes locked on the hand-sewn quilt lying on his bed. His mother called it a memory quilt and that it was. It was one of the few things he brought with him from the farm. His mother wasn’t a fine quilter; she used old scraps of fabric to make quilts. A piece of the quilt held his baby clothes. His sisters’ dresses. Every time he looked at it, the warm times he and his family had shared before their deaths came flooding back.
Once or twice, he had even thought about giving the quilt away, but he couldn’t do it. Instead, he would flip it over to the backside, banishing those images. Usually, it worked, but lately he had trouble keeping memories from popping back up again.
He traced the outline of a lavender patch. His mother’s best dress. It reminded him of the day he had deceived his mother for the first and last time. It was a hot August day and Rome was twelve years old. His mother had changed into her lavender dress to go to a quilting frolic. She put Rome in charge of his sisters, but a few friends dropped by with a more interesting plan: swimming in Black Bottom Pond. He paid the next-in-line sister two dollars to take over his babysitting duties, another dollar to each sister to keep quiet, and took off with his friends. One boy brought a rope to loop on a sturdy tree branch that hung over Black Bottom Pond—it was a vine and they were jungle boys. Rome was having the time of his life.
Two things Rome forgot to factor in: the end time for the quilting frolic, and that his mother had to pass right by Black Bottom Pond. He was swinging out over the pond, naked as a jaybird, hollering out ape calls, when he caught sight of his mother standing on the shore, arms akimbo. One thing about his mother: you could always count on her to give you her opinion. And she wasn’t shy about implementing that opinion with a willow switch. What he would give to have that August afternoon back again, switch and all.
Rome rubbed his face with the palms of his hands. His mind had traveled so far back in the past, he didn’t even realize where he’d gone. He had to stop letting himself wander down those paths. He wanted to leave the past a few hundred miles down the road, shake it off like dust. But that was the problem with the past. It kept finding him.
Sadie went out to the garden to pick strawberries for breakfast. Lulu and her puppy tagged along, doubling the work for Sadie because the puppy kept beating her to the ripe berries. Annie had taken home the one puppy, but Menno still hadn’t found the right owner for the remaining pup. When Sadie’s bowl was finally full, she walked back to the house and practically bumped into Rome as he came around the corner.
“Mornin’, Sadie! I was coming by to let someone at the house know I’m heading out tonight.”
Hearing Rome’s voice, Lulu and her puppy abandoned Sadie and bounded over to him. Rome reached down to stroke Lulu’s fur.
Rome was leaving? Just like that? He wouldn’t be here for her fifteenth birthday? When she realized she was staring, she stumbled over nothing and practically spilled the bowl of berries. “Don’t leave. I mean, won’t you at least come in for breakfast? I’m paking mancakes. Pancakes. I’ll make pancakes!” Mortified, she rushed past him and into the kitchen, straight into the pantry, and closed the door behind her.
Sadie heard Julia open the squeaky door for Rome. “What in heaven’s name did you say to her?”
“Nothing!” Sadie heard Rome say. “I said good morning. And that I wanted someone to know I’ll be gone for a few days.”
Just a few days? Hallelujah! Sadie breathed a deep sigh of relief and grabbed the flour bag. She sneaked another glance at him as she came out of the pantry with the flour bag. “Found it! I’ll just get to work on those mancakes. Pancakes!” She flushed bright red and whirled around. She hoped Fern wouldn’t shoo her out of the kitchen like she usually did.
M.K. burst into the kitchen from the upstairs, Menno trailing behind her.
“Sadie! M.K. wants to throw us a surprise party for our birthday!” Menno called out.
M.K. stopped and looked at him. “Well, now it can’t be a surprise.” She shrugged. “But we’ll still have a party!”
“Julia, can Annie come to the party?” Menno asked.
Sadie saw Julia frown. Lately, all Menno talked about was Annie, Annie, Annie.
Rome accepted a mug of coffee from Fern and poured cream into it. “Why, Sadie and Menno, is this your birthday week? So you’re both going to be fifteen?” He took a sip, hiding his smile.
“No, Rome,” Menno answered seriously. “Sadie and I happen to be born on the same day, but we’re not twins. I know it’s confusing, but I’m two years older than Sadie. I’m going to be seventeen. We’re birthday twins, but we’re not really twins.”
“You aren’t supposed to tease Menno,” M.K. whispered loudly. “He doesn’t understand teasing. We have to mean what we say when we say it.”
“An example to us all,” Rome said good-naturedly.
Sadie was grateful that all of the noise in the kitchen diverted attention away from her acute self-consciousness whenever she was within shooting distance of Roman Troyer.
“Well, I can’t miss your birthday, Menno. Or Sadie’s. I’ll just have to be sure I’ll be back in time.”
M.K. slipped onto a chair next to him. “Friday, Rome. Suppertime. This is one party you don’t want to miss.”
Fern sighed. “That girl takes everything to extremes.”
Sadie poured the batter onto four circles on the hot griddle, waited until they bubbled up, flipped them, and put them on a plate. Then she added pats of butter and ladled them with sticky syrup. She was going to deliver Rome’s pancakes without a glitch. Cool as a cucumber. She carefully avoided looking at him so she wouldn’t blush, and in doing so, somehow managed to slide the pancakes into his lap. She dropped the plate on the table and ran into the downstairs bathroom.
Sadie stalled as long as she could in the bathroom, brushing her teeth and washing her face, feeling thoroughly foolish. Her feelings for Rome felt like a herd of wild horses, galloping out of control. This had to stop. Finally she managed to creep outside without being detected. When Rome returned from his trip, this idiocy was coming to an end, and she’d behave like a mature woman.
As Fern mopped up Sadie’s pancakes from the floor, Julia noticed someone walking up the drive to the farmhouse. She went outside to see who it was.
Rome followed her out. “Julia, I actually stopped by to talk to you for a moment. Privately.”
She saw M.K. tip her head in their direction, eavesdropping, so she closed the kitchen door.
“Don’t you get nervous wearing those during hunting season?” Rome’s dark eyes were dancing as he pointed to Julia’s feet.
She had forgotten that she had on a pair of bunny slippers that Menno had given her for Christmas. She knew they were a little fanciful, but she loved them because they were from Menno. She drew herself to her full height, trying to look dignified while wearing bunny slippers. Ignoring him, she waved at the approaching figure. “It’s Annie.”
“Who’s Annie?”
Julia frowned. “A girl Menno seems to be quite taken with.”
“No kidding. Little Menno is growing up, Julia.”
Julia slowly shut her eyes and pulled in a breath. “Do you think I don’t know that?” The irritation in her voice sounded a bit strident even to her ears. She couldn’t think about Menno and Annie right now. So much to worry about! “What did you want to talk to me about?”
He shook his head. “I’m heading over near Lancaster tonight. Switching hives from one farm to another. Tomorrow, I want to talk to so
meone at the hospital about getting Amos on the transplant list.”
“At the hospital? You want to march in and put him on the transplant list?”
Rome took his hat off and raked a hand through his hair. “I don’t know how I’ll do it. I just want to know what needs to happen and how much it will cost and what we could do to persuade him to consider it.”
“Dad won’t even consider a transplant.”
“I know,” Rome said with a sigh.
“So you’ve tried talking to him?”
“A couple of times. He shuts down the conversation.”
Rome looked so earnest that Julia found herself softening, just a little. But then she reminded herself that this was the Bee Man, the source of great aggravation. “It really is Dad’s decision. No one else’s.”
“Julia . . . it’s just that . . . there aren’t many things in life that we can do anything about. Here you have a chance to save him, to keep him around for another couple of decades. You’ve got to make him see . . . that you all need him to stick around.”
She found herself baffled by this man, mildly fascinated by his contradictions. It bothered her when people refused to fit into pigeonholes. It made life murky. The longer he was with them this summer, the more her curiosity about him grew. “You know, Rome, you’re starting to break your own rule.”
“What rule is that?”
“Not getting involved in people’s lives. Isn’t it easier just to dole out advice and move on your way?”
For once, Rome had no answer for her.
This was no way to start a day. M.K. gave some serious consideration to canceling the birthday party for Sadie and Menno. If this morning was an indication of how much cleaning Fern thought needed to happen to prepare for the gathering, then the week ahead looked grim. Fern had given her enough extra work to rub the skin off a person’s knees.
The Keeper Page 13
