Courting Cate

by Leslie Gould

  “Let’s go,” Wes said, slapping Walter on the back again. “You’ll be long asleep—or maybe just getting up—by the time we get back.” He took a step back. “It’s been really good to see you.” The two men hugged again.

  I had no idea where we were going, but it sounded as if it was much farther than I’d thought.

  CHAPTER

  21

  Once we reached the highway, I leaned toward the front seat. “So where are we meeting the publisher?”

  Wes gave me an amused look in the rearview mirror and then shot Pete an annoyed look. “You didn’t tell her?”

  Pete shook his head. “I wanted to wait until you arrived—to be sure it was really going to happen.”

  “New York,” Wes said.

  Assuming he meant the city, because we were already in the state, I leaned back against the seat, a smile spreading across my face. I’d always wanted to see the Big Apple but never dreamed I would.

  Wes had sandwiches, carrot sticks, and apple slices, which I guessed Livy had packed for us to eat. We only stopped twice, at rest areas. It was midafternoon by the time we arrived in the city. Traffic wasn’t bad on the way in, and Wes seemed to know where he was going, right into the heart of Manhattan. I tried my best to take it all in: the tall buildings and the shadows they cast, the streams of people in all sorts of attire rushing along the sidewalks, and the current of cars, trucks, and taxis swept along, this way and that. The billboards captivated me the most. Some were electronic and flashing colors and words. Others were as big as buildings. On one, the height of ten stories, a woman posed in a short, short skirt and gazed over the city. The billboards advertised everything from beer to TVs. Pete’s head bobbed up and down too, but Wes seemed unfazed by everything going on around us. He even knew exactly where to park—in a garage crammed with cars.

  He led the way to an elevator and then down to the street level. I kept feeling as if I should pinch myself. I’d never dreamed of seeing the city. We walked for a couple of blocks on a crowded sidewalk, past stairs that led down to the subway and then along the front of a department store. Wes stepped into a doorway, and we followed. Another elevator ride took us to the fourteenth floor of the building, and we walked into a waiting area, where Pete and I stood while Wes spoke with the receptionist.

  I was beside myself with curiosity but was pretty sure, because Pete hadn’t told me about the meeting in the first place, that I shouldn’t join them.

  “I can wait here,” I said.

  Pete seemed relieved. “I’m just gathering information. I’m not ready to make a decision.”

  I nodded.

  Wes motioned to us but didn’t seem surprised when I sat down in one of the comfy chairs.

  As they followed the receptionist down the hall, I picked up a women’s magazine and leafed through it for the next thirty minutes. I was surprised when the publisher followed them out to the waiting area.

  “I wanted to meet you,” he said, extending his hand. He was middle-aged and wore a short-sleeve shirt and slacks. He had a professional look to him with his short blond hair and clean-shaven face but seemed a little frail, at least compared to Pete. “Your husband says you’re quite a reader.”

  “Jah.” There was no reason to explain I’d been deprived since I’d arrived in New York.

  “I won’t ask what you read—Pete says you aren’t typical. But what do you think Amish women in general want to read?”

  I mentioned pregnancy, first aid, parenting, nutrition, and relationships. I blushed at the word. That was a book I’d never be able to write.

  “Bible stories for children,” I quickly added. “And recipe books. Most women—probably all except for my sister and a few like her—run out of ideas for dinner at some time or another.” I know I did. “But they should be with simple ingredients that one would have on hand. And histories too, and fiction that holds to our values.” I wanted to add books on basic sex education, done tastefully, would be a good idea, also, but was too embarrassed to say it.

  “Those are all good ideas. And many of them, especially the cookbooks, would cross over to other markets.” The man shook my hand again and then turned to Wes and Pete, thanked them for coming. “I’m impressed,” he said. “I think all of you have good ideas.” He nodded toward Pete. “And I think your uncle’s right. I see leadership potential in you. I’ll be in touch.”

  I felt a surge of hope as we left. Pete was a leader. He’d shown that working for Dat.

  When we reached the car, Wes said he had another meeting, uptown. He didn’t say who it was with, though. “You two could find some food around Central Park.”

  I was too curious to care if it would be safe. Besides, I’d be with Pete. He’d traveled across the continent and back. He could probably handle Uptown Manhattan.

  We bought hot dogs from a street vendor, and as we walked and ate I thought of all the books I’d read through the years set in or around New York. After we finished our dinner and tossed our trash into a garbage can, we turned north toward Central Park, dodging a pigeon pecking along the sidewalk.

  Ahead was a carriage, with the base of a skyscraper as its backdrop. I marveled at the contrast and relaxed a little at the familiar clopping of the horse’s hooves on the pavement. The carriage stopped, and a man and woman, each with a camera in their hands, disembarked.

  We soon caught up to the carriage. I reached out to the horse with my free hand and rubbed the star on his forehead. He lifted his head, looking me in the eye.

  “You’re a beauty,” I whispered.

  He dipped his head a little and nudged against me.

  “Want a ride?” The driver was climbing back up onto the bench. He wore a top hat.

  I shook my head. “Just wanted to say hello to the horse.” I feared the driver might be annoyed with me, but he grinned.

  “Got one of these back home?” he asked.

  I nodded. “A standard-bred. And I really miss him.”

  A woman with a little boy and girl approached, obviously paying customers, so I backed away, wiping my hands on my apron.

  Pete patted the horse’s neck and stepped beside me, directing me to walk with him across the street and through the entrance to the park. The benches on each side of the pathway were lined with people—couples, singles, and families—all enjoying the summer breeze.

  We followed the cobblestone path, stopping at a kiosk with a map of the park. “Have you been here before?” I asked.

  “About six years ago. It was one of my first trips. But just for a day.”

  “I’d like to see the Alice in Wonderland statue.” I stepped closer to the map. “And the castle.” I’d checked out a travel book on New York a few years ago. Those were the photos that had stuck in my mind.

  We continued walking, side by side. A calm came over me that I hadn’t felt since the day of the kayaking trip. It actually felt comfortable to be with Pete.

  The pathway grew more crowded. We continued on. I admired the flower beds and the gigantic trees, but mostly I stole glances at the people. Some were obviously tourists with their cameras and travel books. Some were New Yorkers, I was sure. There was a young woman pushing a stroller with a preschooler skipping along beside her.

  “I’ve read about nannies in New York,” I whispered to Pete. “I think she’s one.”

  He smiled.

  We were past the woman now, and I spoke at a normal volume. “I can’t imagine not having room for children to play. . . .” I stopped, the hurt returning. I’d never have to worry about that.

  Pete picked up his pace, and I matched him, stride for stride. When we reached the Alice in Wonderland statue, there was a crowd around it. A young woman stood next to Alice, posing, while her beau snapped a photo on his phone. A school-aged boy scampered up the back of the rabbit. A middle-aged couple stood off to the side, their two teenage daughters nearby.

  “This way,” Pete said, directing me toward a bank of trees and then an expansive lawn. We c
ontinued on the path. Soon the crowds of people walking ahead grew thicker.

  “There must be an event going on tonight,” Pete said.

  In no time we were being swept along in a river of people. When we reached an amphitheater, it became clear that was the crowd’s destination. They began filing into an entrance.

  Pete pointed to the left. “We want to be up there.”

  I could see the castle on the hill.

  He led the way around the crowds, across a lawn where groups picnicked on blankets. Two men threw a Frisbee back and forth. When it went wide, toward us, Pete lunged for it, catching it quickly and then snapping it back to the man it was intended for. Both men waved at him in appreciation.

  We neared a small grouping of trees. Two people stood face-to-face under the low branches. The woman wore a long, heavy gown, her dark hair piled on her head, like a crown. The man wore a billowy blouse and funny pants. He was broad shouldered and had a full beard, appearing almost bearlike. They were talking rather loudly, but at first I couldn’t make out their words. Then the man practically boomed, “‘Why, there’s a wench! Come on, and kiss me, Kate.’”

  I gasped.

  Pete laughed.

  I stopped, staring at the couple.

  “Let’s try it again,” the woman said in a normal voice.

  They repositioned themselves. I could see the profile of the woman’s face.

  Her voice was clear and her speech concise. “‘But now I see our lances are but straws, our strength as weak, our weakness past compare, that seeming to be most which we indeed least are. . . .’”

  I gasped again, not sure what she meant, exactly, but the poetry and power of the words left me breathless.

  Pete grabbed my arm and pulled me away. “Don’t you know it’s not polite to stare?”

  Just then the man boomed, “‘Kiss me, Kate!’” again.

  I jerked away from Pete. He laughed again.

  “What are they doing?” I whispered. They were kissing now—in public.

  “Rehearsing,” Pete answered. “They’re performing tonight. Didn’t you see the sign?”

  I shook my head.

  “Where all the people were going in.”

  The costumed couple started down the path, walking hand in hand, away from us—the Plain couple that stood, figuratively, a world away. The actress jerked away, wrenching her hand free, and gave the man a nasty glare. Then they both laughed, but only for a moment. She stomped off, swinging her body from side to side like a madwoman, the heels of her boots clicking on the concrete.

  “They’re getting into character,” Pete said. “For a play—The Taming of the Shrew.”

  “Oh.” I’d heard the title, but that was all. “She’s the shrew?”

  He nodded. “Come on. We need to meet Wes in half an hour.”

  I didn’t want to meet Wes. I didn’t want our time to end. I wanted to stay in the park, with Pete, for as long as possible.

  We both turned at the same time, stepping toward each other as we did, and our arms collided. A jolt shook me, as if the world had just convulsed. I breathed in deeply. Perhaps it was the heat and all the sights and sounds of the city.

  “You okay?” Pete’s eyes were bright under his black hat.

  “Jah.” I exhaled slowly. “I’m fine.” I stared at him a moment. His brown eyes danced, the way they used to, as brightly as the sun. He was by far the most handsome man I’d seen all day. And he was his old self, confident and kind.

  I inhaled sharply and took off walking again, setting a quick pace, with Pete right behind.

  In a few minutes we reached the castle and then the top level. I turned toward the amphitheater. The light was waning and I could barely make out a few figures on the stage. Not the dark-haired woman, I was sure. But maybe a blond woman, also in a long gown.

  I wished I could stay leaning against the balcony wall of the castle, looking out over the park, the production far below, but Pete urged me to continue on. I led the way down the steps. Soon we were on the sidewalk between the park and the street. Pete positioned himself between the traffic and me. Horns honked. Another carriage passed by. Pedestrians strolled along.

  “What’s the play about?” I asked Pete.

  “Two awful people . . .” His voice trailed off.

  “How does it end?”

  “I’m not sure,” he said.

  But I was pretty sure we both knew. With a kiss.

  Tears pooled in my throat, catching me off guard for the second time in just a few minutes. I quickly wiped at my eyes.

  “What’s the matter?” Pete slowed his pace a little.

  “Nothing,” I answered quickly. “Just the exhaust stinging my eyes.” But that wasn’t it at all. Something had shifted inside of me.

  I stopped, and so did he. “I was just thinking. If you really want to stay in New York, if you really think it’s what’s best for our . . .” I couldn’t say the word family. “For us, I’ll compromise. Whether it’s on the farm. Or in the city.” I nearly choked on the last word, recalling my thoughts just an hour before about how horrid it would be to live in Manhattan.

  He was laughing. “It wouldn’t be here. Not even Wes will work here.”

  I blushed. “Okay, then. Maryland, where Wes lives. Or whatever. I trust your judgment.”

  He tilted his head, his brown eyes intent. “Really?”

  I nodded. “And I think you’d do well working with Wes, for sure, but I think you’d be successful no matter what you decide to do. Farming. Carpentry. Sales. Anything.”

  “Denki, Cate.” Pete smiled under the shadow of his hat.

  Surprised by my own graciousness and unsettled by the emotions welling up inside of me, I took off at a brisk walk again. Through the trees was a small lake with a bridge across it. I increased my pace, and by the time we came to the first intersection beyond the park, I was a few feet ahead of Pete.

  A horn honked, then another. A taxi zipped by.

  Thinking the way was clear, I stepped from the curb and then startled as Pete yelled, “Cate!” As another taxi careened around the corner, he grabbed my arm and yanked me back onto the sidewalk, the yellow blur of the vehicle just inches from me.

  “Denki,” I whispered, my heart galloping.

  We continued on in complete silence after that, all the way to Wes’s car. He was waiting for us, leaning against the car, appearing anxious for us to be on our way.

  The men chatted about the appointment with the publisher and then Wes’s meeting with his friend, who was an editor, as we left the city.

  “He said the deal sounded good,” Wes said. “But I’ll talk it over with my lawyer and get back to you.”

  “And then I’ll need some time to think and pray about it,” Pete said. “I’ve been known to be impulsive. I don’t want to make a bad decision.”

  I placed my hand over my heart as if I’d been stabbed, knowing he meant his decision to marry me.

  Around ten, Wes said we’d be back at the farm by three or so.

  “Will you stay at Mamm and Dat’s?” Pete asked him.

  He shook his head. “I don’t think your mother would be happy to find me on the couch in the morning. She still hasn’t seemed to forgive me for not joining the Amish church. I’ll drive to Bert’s.”

  It seemed that Esther had tried to control a wide variety of people for many years. I settled against the seat and closed my eyes, but sleep wouldn’t come. I became lost in my thoughts, listening to the hum of the wheels on the road through the window that was open just a crack, letting in the cool night air. I thought about the pending business deal. Of the walk in the park. Of the sassy actress and the burly actor. Of Pete pulling me away from the taxi. I sank farther into the back seat, shifting my weight against the vinyl, my heart contracting. Still, I breathed a prayer of thanks. The day had been an unexpected gift.

  Wes commented that Bert seemed to be doing well, and then asked Pete about his other siblings. Pete went down the list one
by one.

  “And how about John? Any children for him and his new bride?”

  I couldn’t hear Pete’s answer, and I didn’t open my eyes to see if he was shaking his head.

  “Pardon?” Wes asked.

  “No.”

  “Any on the way?”

  I was surprised at how forward Wes was, and not surprised when Pete didn’t answer.

  “Well, maybe you and Cate will have the next grandchild.”

  Neither said anything for a long moment. I imagined Pete staring straight ahead out the windshield, not giving anything away with his stoic expression.

  “What’s her family like?” Wes finally asked.

  “Just a sister and their father. Her Dat is a good man, the sort who brings out the best in people.”

  I held as still as I could.

  “Sounds like good stock,” Wes said. “And Cate seems like a good match for you. Smart. Adventuresome. Patient.”

  Pete chuckled.

  “Well, she is living on the farm.”

  “That’s true,” Pete said. “And she’s been amazingly gracious about it.”

  My heart swelled.

  But then the front seat shifted a little, and Pete said to Wes, “What have you been reading lately?”

  It was Wes’s turn to chuckle. “Don’t want to talk about your own life?”

  Pete’s voice was firm. “I finished Pilgrim’s Progress a while ago. First time. I’m between books right now, though. I’ve been too busy.”

  Wes bit, surely knowing full well the hook had been baited. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t stay awake.

  Sometime later I drifted out of sleep to hear Pete say, “I’m sure she reads more than anyone I’ve ever met. I knew right away she was a smart one. That was what first attracted me.”

  Inwardly I groaned at him repeating the same made-up spiel he’d pitched to his brothers, sisters-in-law, and parents, not sure why he was saying it again when he didn’t have to.

  When I awoke again, the car had stopped.

  “We’re here,” Wes announced.