[Kentucky Brothers 01] - The Journey

by Wanda E. Brunstetter

  It was probably for the best. With two part-time jobs, she barely had enough time to sleep, let alone socialize or do anything fun.

  Phoebe stared at the calendar on the kitchen wall and grimaced. It was hard to believe, but she’d been away from home over four months already. When she’d first come to California, she’d expected her life to be easy and carefree, but things were getting more difficult every day.

  She pushed away from the table and grunted as she tossed the banana peel at the garbage can and missed. “I don’t care how bad it gets,” she muttered. “I’m not about to admit defeat and go home!”

  Paradise, Pennsylvania

  Fannie had just taken some throw rugs outside to hang on the line, when she spotted Arie Stoltzfus’s horse and buggy coming up the lane. Except for the Sundays when they went to church, Fannie hadn’t seen much of Arie lately. She wondered if Arie had been busy or was just keeping to herself.

  “Wie geht’s?” Fannie asked when Arie joined her under the clothesline.

  “I’ve been better.” From the slump of Arie’s shoulders and her furrowed brows, Fannie knew Arie must be upset about something.

  “What’s wrong?” Fannie asked, feeling concern for her friend.

  “I’m worried about Phoebe.”

  Fannie finished draping the rugs over the line and motioned to the house. “Let’s go inside where it’s cooler and you can tell me about it. The humidity today is so bad it hurts.”

  Once inside, they took seats at the kitchen table, and Fannie poured glasses of iced tea. “Are you still upset because Phoebe moved to California?” she asked.

  Arie nodded slowly. “But I’m even more upset now because Phoebe’s friend Darlene has come home—without Phoebe.”

  “Oh, I didn’t realize that.”

  Arie took a sip of iced tea and blotted her lips on a napkin. “This is so refreshing. Danki.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Arie sighed as she set the glass on the table. “Not only did my daughter choose to stay in California, but now she’s living alone. To make matters worse, she won’t answer any of my phone calls, and I can hardly sleep because I’m so worried about her.” The dark circles beneath her eyes confirmed that she hadn’t been sleeping well. “Short of a miracle, I don’t think Phoebe will ever return to Pennsylvania and the Plain life.”

  “I know it’s hard to have her living in another state,” Fannie said. “It’s been hard for me to accept Titus moving to Kentucky.”

  “It’s different for you,” Arie said. “Your son’s joined the church and has settled down. My daughter’s still going through her running-around years and may never return home and join the church.”

  Fannie placed her hand over Arie’s. “You need to keep the faith and pray that God will touch Phoebe’s heart and she’ll decide to come home.” Fannie couldn’t believe she was saying such a thing. The truth was, she’d been glad when Phoebe left—at least until Titus had decided to leave, too. If Phoebe had stayed in Pennsylvania and joined the church, Titus would never have left home.

  “It’s not so easy to keep the faith,” Arie said. “Especially when Phoebe won’t answer my calls.”

  “You and your family weren’t living here at the time,” Fannie said, “but back when Naomi was a young woman dealing with the guilt of leaving her baby brother on the picnic table when he was kidnapped, she left home for a while, too.”

  “Where’d she go?”

  “Went to Oregon with her English friend Ginny. Abraham was so upset about it, he almost made himself sick. But God answered our prayers and brought Naomi home. You’d never know such a thing had happened now, because she’s happy and content and such a good mudder to her kinner.”

  “Oh, I pray that will be the case for Phoebe someday.”

  Fannie placed her hand on Arie’s arm and shared some of the scriptures Abby had previously mentioned to her.

  Arie sniffed and swiped at the tears trickling down her cheeks. “I appreciate the reminder and know that I do need to trust the Lord where my daughter’s concerned. From now on, I’ll try to remember to trust God more and put Phoebe into His hands.”

  Pembroke, Kentucky

  Titus had just finished breakfast and was getting ready to leave for work, when a knock sounded on the back door. He hurried across the room to answer it, and was surprised to see Bishop King standing on the porch.

  “Can I come in?” the bishop asked.

  “Well, I … uh … was about to leave for work.”

  “It’s important, and I won’t take much of your time.”

  “Of course. Come in.” Titus led the way to the kitchen and motioned for the bishop to take a seat at the table.

  When the bishop sat down, Titus seated himself in the chair opposite him.

  Bishop King cleared his throat a few times, while stroking his full gray beard. “It’s come to my attention that you own a cell phone. Is it true?”

  Titus nodded slowly. “I use it mostly to keep in touch with my family in Pennsylvania. My brother Zach has a cell phone because of his painting business, so it’s easier for me to get ahold of him now, rather than having to leave messages on his or my folks’ voice mail.”

  The bishop tapped his fingers on the table and looked at Titus with furrowed brows. “Cell phones are not allowed in this district. Figured someone would have told you that by now.”

  A trickle of sweat rolled down Titus’s forehead, and he wiped it away. “I did hear that, but I was hoping you might make an exception in my case, since it’s hard for me to get ahold of my family.”

  The bishop shook his head sternly. “There are no exceptions to the rule. You’ll have to get rid of the cell phone if you expect to remain a member in good standing.”

  “But I signed a yearlong contract, and—”

  “That’s too bad, but I can’t allow you to have a cell phone and expect others in our district to adhere to the ‘no cell phone’ rule.”

  “I suppose not.” Titus drew in a deep breath and sighed. “I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize my standing in the church, so I’ll stop using the cell phone and pay the fee to disconnect the service.”

  The bishop smiled and gave a nod. “Maybe you can set up a certain time to call your family each week. That’s what many others do, you know.”

  “Okay, I’ll do whatever you say.”

  “This bread is sure good, Mom.” Chad reached for a slice of banana bread, sniffed it, and then popped it into his mouth. “Mmm … it tastes even better than it smells.” He smacked his lips noisily.

  “Duh net so laut schmatze!” Mom scolded. “You’re old enough to know better than to make such a noise when you eat.”

  “Sorry,” the boy mumbled.

  “When you become a daed someday, you’ll need to set a better example for your kinner,” Grandpa said.

  Chad slowly nodded. Suzanne figured becoming a dad was probably the last thing on her brother’s young mind.

  “This is tasty bread,” Effie said after she’d eaten a piece. “Danki for makin’ it, Mom.”

  Mom shook her head and motioned to Suzanne. “She’s the one who deserves the thanks.”

  Nelson’s eyebrows lifted high on his forehead as he stared at Suzanne with a look of disbelief. “You made the bread?

  She nodded. “For the last several weeks, I’ve been going over to Esther’s for cooking lessons.”

  “Well, that would explain it,” Nelson said. “Esther’s a really good cook.”

  “That’s true,” Mom agreed, “and she has a lot more patience in the kitchen than I do, which is why I’m sure I haven’t been able to teach you much, Suzanne.”

  Grandpa took a piece of banana bread and slathered it with butter. “My daughter has a lot of good qualities, but she does tend to be a bit picky about things—especially when it comes to what goes on in her kitchen.”

  Mom frowned, but then a smile played at the corner of her lips. “I’m not picky. I just like things done in an or
derly fashion. I’ll also admit that for me, it’s usually easier to do things myself than to wait for someone else to do them. It’s a fault I need to work on.”

  “And I haven’t been the best student,” Suzanne said. “That’s mostly because there are so many other things I’d rather do than spend time in the kitchen.”

  “Then why the change now?” Grandpa asked.

  Suzanne wasn’t about to blurt out that she’d decided to learn how to cook so she could impress Titus. That would be embarrassing and no doubt bring on some teasing from her siblings.

  “So, how come you’ve been learnin’ to cook?” Russell asked, poking Suzanne’s arm.

  “I just decided it was time; that’s all.” “I’ll bet she’s interested in some fellow and knows she’ll need to be able to cook if she’s gonna get him to marry her.” Nelson winked at Suzanne.

  “Who’s the fellow?” Effie questioned. “And when are ya gettin’ married?”

  Suzanne’s face heated, and she stared at the table, hoping no one would realize how embarrassed she was. “There is no fellow, and I’m not getting married anytime soon—maybe never.” But I wish I was, she mentally added.

  CHAPTER 38

  For the rest of summer, and into the fall, Suzanne continued to take cooking lessons from Esther and practice what she’d learned on her family. She was getting better at cooking, and even her baking skills had improved. Unfortunately, she hadn’t had the chance to let Titus sample anything she’d made, because he and Nelson had been installing some cabinets and doing the trim work on the inside of a new house in Hopkinsville, which took them away from the shop every day. While they were gone, Grandpa continued to do the bookwork and usually spent a few hours every day in the shop to greet any customers who came in.

  This morning, Mom had accompanied Grandpa to his doctor’s appointment in town, which meant nobody was in the shop. That gave Suzanne the perfect opportunity to sneak out there and work on a project of her own that she’d begun a few weeks ago when no one else was around.

  Suzanne entered the shop and lit the gas lamps. Then she pulled out the bedside table she’d started working on from the back of the storage closet, where she’d hidden it under a tarp.

  she hummed as she began sanding the legs. The wood felt smooth beneath her fingers, and she didn’t even mind the bits of sawdust that blew up to her nose. This was where she belonged—where she felt comfortable and at peace. Even though she’d learned to cook fairly well, she doubted that she’d ever feel this content baking a pie or roasting a chicken. If only her desire to work with wood could be accepted by the men in the family. If she just could make them see how much she loved spending time out here.

  Suzanne reached for another piece of sandpaper, and in so doing, knocked a jar of nails off the shelf. The jar broke as soon as it hit the floor, and nails flew everywhere.

  “Oh great,” she mumbled. “Now I have to waste my time picking all that up.”

  She bent down, picked up a piece of broken glass, and let out a yelp. Her finger was bleeding, and the cut looked pretty deep and had begun to throb. But a close examination convinced her it wouldn’t require stitches.

  Suzanne left her work and opened the desk drawer where Nelson kept some bandages. The box was empty. Guess I’d better go up to the house for a bandage and some antiseptic.

  She grabbed a paper towel from the holder near the sink and wrapped it around her finger. Then she pushed the table back into the storage closet, threw the tarp over it, and hurried from the shop.

  Titus and Nelson had finished working at the house in Hopkinsville a little earlier than expected, so they decided to stop at the shop and see if any orders had come in during their absence.

  “There’s no paperwork on the desk,” Nelson said, “but look there.” He pointed to some broken glass on the floor. “Looks like Grandpa must have busted a jar sometime today. I’d better get the broom and dustpan from the storage room and sweep it up before one of us gets a hunk of glass stuck in the bottom of our shoe.”

  “I’ll get it,” Titus said.

  He opened the door to the storage closet and was about to remove the broom, when he noticed what looked like a table leg sticking out from under a canvas tarp. He pulled the cloth back. Sure enough, it was a small wooden table, but it wasn’t quite finished. It appeared to be partially sanded but no stain had been added.

  Titus bent down and studied the table. It had been finely crafted, with perfectly shaped corners and a small drawer in the front. He was about to drop the canvas back in place when he noticed a bloodstain on one of the table legs.

  “Did you make that little table?” Titus asked Nelson when he returned with the broom and dustpan.

  “What table’s that?”

  “The one in the storage closet. It looks like a bedside table.”

  Nelson shook his head. “Never knew there was a table in there. I wonder if Grandpa made it when he’s been out here doing the books. I’ll have to ask him about it.”

  Titus began sweeping up the glass and had just finished when Suzanne entered the shop, wearing a bandage on her finger. Could she have been here working today? Might she have made the table? No, that’s ridiculous. If she could do woodworking that well, Isaac or Nelson would have put her to work in the shop by now.

  “I’m surprised to see you two here so early,” Suzanne said. “I figured you’d be working late again.”

  “We did all we could for the day and decided to come back here to see if any orders had come in,” Nelson said.

  She glanced at the floor, but said nothing about the broken glass. Maybe she didn’t know about it. Maybe she’d cut her finger on something in the house, barn, or outside while doing some chore.

  Suzanne looked at Titus and smiled. “If you have no other plans for this evening, we’d like you to stay for supper.”

  Titus smiled. “I have no plans, and I’d be happy to stay.” Truth was, he was tired and hungry and didn’t feel like going home to an empty house and fixing himself something to eat—especially not tonight on his birthday, which he hadn’t mentioned to anyone. He didn’t want them to feel obligated to help him celebrate. If he were still living at home, Mom would have done something special for his and Timothy’s birthday. When Titus got home, he planned to call and leave a birthday message on Timothy’s voice mail.

  A short time later, when Titus entered the kitchen with Nelson, he sniffed the air. Suzanne’s mother was a good cook, so he looked forward to the meal. “Something sure smells good in here,” he told Verna, who stood near the stove. “What’d you make for supper?”

  “Not a thing,” Verna said. “I was in Hopkinsville most of the day with my daed. Suzanne fixed the meal.”

  Remembering some things Nelson had said about his sister’s cooking, Titus wondered what kind of a meal he was in for this evening. Well, as hungry as he was, he’d eat almost anything.

  As they ate the chicken and dumplings Suzanne had prepared, she couldn’t help but notice that Titus seemed to be enjoying himself. He’d had two helpings already, which meant he was either very hungry or liked what he’d eaten.

  “How are things coming along with your job at that house in Hopkinsville?” Grandpa asked Nelson.

  “Real well. If things keep going as they have, we should be done with all the trim work and doors by the end of the week.”

  “That’s good to hear,” Grandpa said, “because the last few days, I’ve taken a few orders for Christmas gifts.”

  “Here it is fall already, and I can’t believe Christmas is only two and a half months away,” Verna said. “It seems like the days just fly by anymore. I don’t even know where summer went.”

  “That’s ‘cause everyone’s been so busy,” Russell chimed in.

  “You’re right about that,” his mother agreed.

  “This is sure a good meal,” Titus said around a mouthful of dumpling. “I’m glad I decided to stay. To tell you the truth, I wasn’t looking forward to spending the e
vening alone either.”

  Suzanne smiled. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it, and I hope you’ll like the pie I made for dessert.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “What kind of pie?”

  “Lemon shoofly. It was one of Grandma’s favorite pies to bake.”

  “I’ve never heard of lemon shoofly,” Titus said. “Is it anything like the traditional Lancaster County wet-bottom shoofly pie?”