Katie's Way

by Marta Perry

  The words squeezed Katie’s heart. “I know.”

  She’d been making an effort to speak lightly with her young sister, but Katie couldn’t rid herself of an edge of worry. She had confidence in Bishop Mose’s ability to discern the truth, but what if he felt Rhoda’s behavior deserved censure? How would she deal with that?

  They were nearing the edge of the village, where the mix of shops and houses turned to just homes, most English but a few Amish. Children ran around outside in the long sunshine of early June. Roses were blooming with abandon, as if to celebrate the warmth and light, and people were out mulching flower beds and mowing the grass.

  A group of boys played basketball in a driveway while a couple of small Amish girls tried to master roller skates under the watchful eyes of a slightly older sister. Beyond the houses farmland stretched in a carpet of pale green to the wooded hillsides that enclosed Pleasant Valley.

  A peaceful scene . . . It was small wonder that those first settlers who’d crossed the Susquehanna to establish homes here had named it Pleasant Valley.

  Pleasant, ja. But envy and malice existed everywhere, even in these peaceful surroundings. Gossiping tongues caused heartache here as in every place where people tried to live together. And someone had slipped through the night to vandalize other people’s property.

  Only God is truly good, Katie reminded herself. The rest of us borrow what goodness we can from Him, always praying that we’re doing what He has for us to do.

  Bishop Mose’s small, unpretentious house was in sight now. He had lived there alone, she knew, since the death of his wife, but the rest of the community would have made sure that he was well taken care of.

  A low fence surrounded the yard, and a climbing rose bloomed on an arbor over the gate. Katie pushed it open. If only Daadi were here . . .

  But he wasn’t, and this situation was her responsibility. She had changed in the short time she’d lived here in Pleasant Valley. Grown, maybe. She could only hope she’d grown enough to deal with whatever was about to happen.

  Several buggies were parked in the lane behind the house. Her heart gave a little jump. If the ministers and deacon were here, too, that was a sure sign that action would be taken against someone.

  Please. Her heart murmured an incoherent prayer.

  Rhoda slipped her hand into hers. Katie squeezed it. Together they walked to the door.

  Bishop Mose must have seen them coming, because he opened the door before she could knock.

  “Komm in, komm in.” His smile was as welcoming as always. “Komm and have a seat. We are all here now, I think.”

  She and Rhoda followed him from the tiny hall into the living room, furnished with a bench, two rocking chairs, and a table under the window on which lay a Bible, in High German, no doubt.

  Katie’s gaze skipped quickly across the people who sat, ill at ease it seemed, waiting for them. Becky, her parents, and Caleb sat close together on straight chairs. Tommy Esch, bony hands dangling between his knees, sat a short distance away between his father and mother. One of the congregation’s ministers stood behind them.

  Katie and Rhoda took the two remaining seats, avoiding the big chair by the table, which was clearly Bishop Mose’s.

  Katie glanced toward the Brand family from under her lashes. She’d have given a lot to see Naomi’s kind face with them, but she wasn’t there. What were they thinking? Caleb caught her gaze, and his firm lips relaxed in a slight, reassuring smile.

  Why something so simple should make her feel better, she didn’t know, but it did.

  Bishop Mose turned his chair to face the rest of them and sat down. “Now then.” He planted his hands on his knees. “Let us get on with this.”

  Katie took Rhoda’s hand again. A quick glance at her sister’s face told her that Rhoda was suffering an agony of embarrassment at having her troubles discussed by the adults.

  “I would not ordinarily find it necessary to talk to parents about a disagreement among sixteen-year-olds.” The bishop’s first words seemed to echo Katie’s thoughts. “But in this case, the disagreement may have led to an action that has brought in the police . . . a serious bit of mischief directed against a sister who has done nothing wrong.”

  He paused, shifting his position a little in the heavy wooden chair. No one else moved, perhaps even breathed.

  “I discussed the situation with Brother Joseph, and we feel this is the proper step to take.”

  The minister nodded solemnly.

  “I will begin by saying that I have talked with Rhoda Miller about the incident that occurred before she came to this community. I am satisfied, as was her home bishop, that while she may have acted foolishly, her behavior was nothing more than what might be expected of any of our young people embarking on their rumspringa years.”

  A wave of relief moved through Katie, and she felt as if Rhoda experienced the same. Bishop Mose had checked on what had happened back home, and he was satisfied, as he said. Word of that would get around, maybe, and folks would feel more lenient toward Rhoda.

  Bishop Mose silently looked from one person to another. “Of far greater concern to me is the sin of gossip, which seems to have flared like a fire in our community. The tongue truly is an unruly member, and those who embark on speaking ill of a sister are in need of confession and repentance.”

  Rhoda’s lips moved, but Katie could not hear the words. Maybe she didn’t need to. She could sense Rhoda’s fear ebbing. She didn’t dare look toward Nancy, after what Caleb had revealed about her.

  “Now, for the current situation. It is my understanding that at the mall on Saturday, Thomas Esch kissed Rhoda Miller in a public place. According to Rhoda, that kiss was unwelcome.” He fixed an intimidating stare on the boy. “Well, Thomas?”

  Thomas stopped staring at the toes of his shoes and looked up. His blue eyes swam with tears.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice breaking. “I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have. I know that.”

  “You will tell us exactly what happened.” Bishop Mose’s tone was like the voice of God cracking from the heavens.

  “We . . . we . . . Some of us guys were talking to Becky and Rhoda. The other girls were acting silly, and gossiping about Rhoda. Then ... Then Rhoda left the table, and Becky went to the counter to get a soda. I didn’t think of kissing her,” he said hurriedly, glancing from his father’s forbidding face to that of the bishop. “One of the guys dared me. He said Rhoda would like it. But she didn’t. She smacked me a gut one.”

  A growling rumble from his father suggested there might be worse to come for the unfortunate Thomas. Katie tried to feel sorry for him, but she couldn’t forget all the hurt he’d caused.

  “That was what you deserved, ain’t so?” Bishop Mose was uncompromising.

  “Ja,” the boy muttered miserably. “I was wrong. I ask God’s forgiveness.”

  “And that of Rhoda and Becky, who were hurt by your foolishness,” Bishop Mose said.

  “Ja.” Tommy cast a quick glance at the two girls and then studied his shoes again. “I am sorry, Becky. I am sorry, Rhoda.”

  Becky nodded. She was blinking back tears as she looked at Rhoda, but Rhoda’s face was turned away.

  Forgive, Katie said silently. Forgive, little sister, or it will grieve you forever. I know that too well.

  “Now.” Bishop Mose wasn’t finished. “Who was the one who dared you, Thomas?”

  Tommy hesitated, and Katie could practically feel the universal adolescent code battle with his reverence for his bishop.

  “Speak.” Tommy’s father grabbed his shoulder and shook him. “Answer the bishop.”

  “It was Gordy Schultz,” Tommy muttered, his face flaming. “But I should not have listened.”

  “No, you should not. I’m glad you realize that. But there is more.” Bishop Mose paused, and the air in the room seemed to spark with tension. “What do you know about the vandalism to Sister Katie’s shop?”

  Tommy looked up, mouth dropp
ing open, eyes wide. “Nothing. Nothing. Honest. I would never do anything like that.”

  Bishop Mose leaned forward, hands on his knees, looking more than ever like some Old Testament prophet confronting Israel with its sins. “This is more serious than a prank, Thomas Esch. The police are involved. A sister has been injured. If you know anything, have any idea who did this thing, you must speak now.”

  “I don’t, I don’t.” Tears spurted from Tommy’s eyes. “Really, I don’t have any idea.”

  Bishop Mose stared at him for a moment longer. Then he nodded. “I believe you.”

  Katie found that she believed him, too. But if the damage to her shop hadn’t been caused by someone angry over Rhoda, then by who, and why? Who had reason to do such a thing to her? She couldn’t see an answer.

  Bishop Mose stood. “We will pray now for forgiveness and understanding.”

  Every head bowed. In the silence, Katie asked for forgiveness for any thoughtless anger or resentment she might hold, trying to release it all, knowing that only in forgiving could she find forgiveness.

  The bishop raised his head, and the prayer ended. Becky jumped up from her chair and then stopped, waiting for a sign from Rhoda. The moment seemed to last forever.

  Then Rhoda choked back a sob and darted toward Becky. In an instant the two girls were in each other’s arms, crying and laughing together.

  The young ones could cry and hug and come back to their friendship again easily. It was a bit harder for the grown-ups. Katie had to listen to uncomfortable apologies from Thomas’s parents and even more uncomfortable ones from Becky’s parents.

  Bishop Mose turned from consulting with the minister. “Brother Joseph and I will call on the others who are involved. I trust that all this will be quickly forgotten.” He smiled at the two girls. “Forgiveness is only real when it lets the past slip away. We each of us, every day, do something in word or thought for which we should be asking forgiveness.”

  The two girls nodded soberly, and Katie thought that he didn’t need to worry about them, at least not at the moment.

  But the bishop’s words took painful root in her heart. How often had she given lip service to forgiveness while holding on to the pain?

  Caleb stopped in front of her as his family moved toward the door. “Forgive me, Katie Miller?” His eyes were serious.

  “It’s already done,” she said, knowing it was true. “I will see you tomorrow, ja?”

  “Tomorrow,” he said, and there seemed to be a promise in the word.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Caleb took a step back on the sidewalk, looking at the work he and William had done on Katie’s window frames this morning. Good work, though he shouldn’t think it. Still, surely there was nothing prideful about being pleased with the help he’d given his neighbor.

  Neighbor. And something more? After last night, he had the sense he and Katie had passed a milestone of some sort. Bishop Mose had taken care of his flock as he usually did. The innocent had been cleared, the wrongdoer identified and hopefully brought to a properly penitent frame of mind. No Englisch judge could have done better.

  There was still the matter of who had committed an act of vandalism against Katie. Had it been directed against her personally? That wondered Caleb the most, and he’d guess Bishop Mose felt the same.

  Well, he couldn’t stand here admiring his handiwork. He’d barely seen Katie today. She’d been rushing around taking care of last-minute details about Pennsylvania Dutch Days.

  He was just as glad he’d finished up his part in the project. He’d dutifully contacted the rest of the Amish merchants in town, and most were eager to participate, though maybe a bit doubtful about how many customers they could actually expect.

  Katie was back now; he’d seen her go in. He didn’t need an excuse, did he, to go have a word with her?

  He stepped inside to find that Rhoda and Becky, who were supposed to be watching the shops, had found a compromise. They sat in the archway, heads together, chattering away sixteen to the dozen. Caleb couldn’t help smiling at the sight.

  “Rhoda, is Katie around?”

  “Ja, she just got back.” Rhoda gestured with a handful of envelopes. “She took her lunch out on the back porch since it’s so nice today. If you’re going out, would you take the mail to her?”

  “For sure.” He took the envelopes, smiling at her. “You two are watching the shops now, aren’t you?”

  “We won’t ignore a customer, Onkel Caleb.” Becky took his joking comment seriously. “We think everyone is too busy getting ready for Pennsylvania Dutch Days to shop much today.”

  “I’m sure you’re right,” he agreed, tickled with her air of being a serious businesswoman. “I’ll give these to Katie.”

  Waving the letters, he walked back through the shop to the rear door. And discovered that his heart was beating a bit fast at just the prospect of seeing Katie.

  Careful, his cautious side warned. Don’t jump into anything. You don’t know how she feels.

  But when he stepped outside and Katie looked up and smiled, it seemed to him that he did know.

  “Having a busy morning?” she asked. “You did a wonderful-gut job on the front window frames. No one would ever know they’d been damaged.”

  “That’s the aim of the work.”

  He pulled a chair over next to her. She had a sandwich and a glass of milk on the small table, but they looked untouched. She must have been poring over the notebook she held, which was probably all about the sale days.

  “You should be eating, not working,” he pointed out.

  “I’m trying to do both.” She shook her head. “Who would imagine there were so many details involved in something like this? And I didn’t get much done on it yesterday.”

  “But you did get one big problem cleared up. I’m wonderful glad to see those two girls talking and giggling together again.”

  “And here I thought you were always trying to get away from females chattering and giggling.” Katie had a teasing glint in her eyes.

  “Ach, well, I’m finding I’ve gotten used to it, what with my neighbor having groups of women in practically every day. Having only two girls talking makes this a quiet day.”

  “Don’t count your chickens,” Katie said, smiling. “The quilting group is meeting this afternoon instead of tomorrow, because tomorrow everyone will be getting ready for the sales.”

  “I might have known it,” he said with mock dismay.

  Katie’s expression sobered. What was she thinking? Surely she didn’t think he was serious.

  “Last night,” she said, “I was sorry for Tommy in the end, despite the trouble he caused.”

  “I think it’s safe to say his father will make sure he doesn’t take any foolish dares in the future. Tommy is not a mean boy. Just heedless of consequences, as so many of us are at that age.”

  “I suppose.” Katie still looked concerned. “Do you think he was telling the truth about what happened to the shop?” She tilted her head as if gesturing toward the front windows.

  “I think so,” Caleb said slowly. “I think he was too appalled by the trouble he’d caused to think of lying at that point.”

  “Ja, that’s what I thought, too. But if it didn’t have anything to do with Rhoda, then . . .” She looked at him, eyes troubled. “Then why my shop?”

  “It may have been random.” He wasn’t sure he believed that himself, but he didn’t want her to feel as if she had a target painted on her. “Our section of the street is fairly dark. Maybe they were taking advantage of that.”

  Her eyebrows lifted. “They were careful not to get any paint on your windows, ain’t so?”

  It was no use trying to protect a woman like Katie from something unpleasant. She’d always rather know the truth. Still, he hesitated.

  “Komm, Caleb,” she said. “You are thinking of another answer. I can see it in your face. Just tell me.”

  He leaned toward her, elbows on his knees. They were very
close, knees almost touching. It seemed to him that he could feel the warmth that came from her.

  “Most of the merchants are pleased about Pennsylvania Dutch Days,” he said slowly. “But not everyone in town feels that way.”

  Her expressive face told him she’d already considered that answer. “I didn’t want to think it was because of our plans. No one has said anything to me directly, but . . . well, there’s been a feeling.”

  “Ja.” He gave in to the urge to put his hand over hers. “Some think the attention may bring trouble along with the increased business, but it’s hard to imagine they’d do the very thing they’re afraid of. And there are some who feel it’s all for nothing and will fail.”

  Katie seemed to shiver. “That’s what keeps me awake at night. What if we’ve gone to all this trouble and no one comes?”

  His fingers tightened over hers almost without his intending it. “You can’t think that way. Most of Pleasant Valley is buzzing, and not just the village, but the rest of the valley as well. William says that Rachel Zook is bringing plenty of plants from her greenhouse.”

  “Ja.” Katie brightened. “She’ll set up a table next to the quilt shop. But if people don’t show up to buy . . .”

  “Well, then we’ll know that doesn’t work. No one will blame you.” He hoped that was true.

  “I’m not so sure.” Her hand seemed to clench in his. “I’m new here, ain’t so? I want to belong. But if this doesn’t work, that might not be possible. And if it does, but a lot of people don’t like it or think it causes trouble, the answer is the same.”

  “Katie, stop. You already fit in. You have lots of friends.” And something more in me. But Caleb couldn’t quite bring himself to say the words. “All the women from the quilting groups, and the people you’ve met through the Dutch Days, and ...”

  And him? How could he let himself get serious about Katie? She’d tried to assure him that people no longer blamed him for what had happened with Mattie, but he couldn’t quite accept that. And what had been wrong with him, that he could have been engaged to marry Mattie and not have even suspected that there was someone else in her life?