“Okay, I’ll give you the information.” Betsy wrapped the end of the leash around one finger, then unwrapped it. “It might be nothing. But I don’t want to see Aenti Chelle hurt. Thanks, Thaddeus.”
Her cheeks red, she strode briskly away from him, back in the direction they’d walked.
*
Pete stood with a small cluster of men at Pinecraft park, watching a bocce game on the expanse of lawn. He glanced across the way. There went nosy Betsy and her dog down the street after talking to Thaddeus Zook, of all people. He ducked his head a little lower, letting the brim of his hat do the work.
One of his bearded cohorts sent a ball flying across the grass and almost touching the jack ball used as a target. The man’s teammate clapped him on the back in triumph.
Pete scanned the area again. Betsy headed off down Fry, probably going back to the house. He thumped his stomach. What a meal. He’d never had the like. And Rochelle? She’d captured his attention the entire time, blushing as she’d introduced him to the rest of the family who hadn’t met him before.
Thad still stood by the fence rail. Pete allowed himself a grin. The young Amish woman had tumbled into Thad’s arms. The electricity between them, well, Pete could feel it all the way over here.
Right, Thad. Who could blame the kid for being attracted to the young woman. Innocence and sweetness was appealing. Pete had seen the same in Rochelle, and a quiet pain he had no business trying to coax out from her.
“Daniel, you want a turn?” one of his new friends asked.
“No, no thank you. I’m feeling a bit ill at the moment. I hope it wasn’t something I ate. If you’ll excuse me …”
“See you at the Gospel concert on Sunday afternoon?”
“Perhaps.”
He slunk around the side of the nearly empty shuffleboard court. Thad had started walking, but continuing the opposite direction on Fry—closer to Pete. He turned his back on the street and looked to be headed toward the creek instead.
He’d been gone long enough, had made promises to his boss he’d come through, but the minute he’d set foot in this village, he didn’t miss the bite of winter approaching Ohio. Pete watched a heron launch itself into the air and soar above the palm tree. A man could get used to this. He snuck a glance toward the street. Thad strode along, seemingly oblivious to anyone watching.
Now satisfied that Thad hadn’t seen him, Pete followed a block’s length behind. After he learned where Thad Zook was staying, maybe he could find a way inside and see if whatever Thad had stowed in his possessions had been worth the trip.
17
For the remainder of the weekend, Betsy couldn’t push past the memory of practically being in Thad’s embrace. She’d never been so physically close to a man before. Of course, back when she thought herself in love with Jacob Miller, she allowed herself a dream or two, but never entertained the idea for long.
She’d burned two pies on Saturday by allowing her mind to wander, to imagine being in Thad’s arms again, with him looking at her with those dark eyes of his as he removed the pins from her hair and let it tumble down her back. He would pull her closer yet, so close she could feel his heart beating when he kissed her.
There. She’d done it again. Worse, while sitting in church and listening to the local bishop preach.
Her sister planted her elbow in Betsy’s side. “You awake?”
“Ow. Yes.”
Mamm leaned forward and hushed them with a look. Some things didn’t change. Betsy sat up straighter and focused on the service, but not before she caught a glance from Gideon across the aisle with the men.
Oh, right. She had promised to meet up with a group of them, and spend some time at the beach. She welcomed this day of rest, and especially welcomed it this weekend with more of her family and friends in the village.
Silly child. She chided herself. No imaginations about Thaddeus Zook would replace the security of her family and friends. Thaddeus was “off limits,” with good reason. She dared not start imagining if only. If only he’d return, rejoin the church, then maybe …
Such decisions weren’t made lightly, if at all. A cousin had left, and one of her friends from the district. Both were miserable in Englisch marriages, even with all the supposed “freedom” they enjoyed. Betsy didn’t feel particularly restricted. Other families might not have even entertained the idea of allowing a young woman to open her own bakery.
After church, the women visited in the side yard of the church building, with the men lining the side of the building where they’d placed their hats on a table before going inside the church.
Betsy glanced over, admiring how nice they all looked in their black trousers and suspenders, with white buttoned shirts, and variety of hats. Even in slightly relaxed Pinecraft, the Sunday best still appeared on the Sabbath day.
There went Gideon again, looking her way. She snatched her gaze away from the men and back into the circle of chatting women.
“So we must hurry through the meal as quickly as we can,” Emma was saying. “I can’t wait to get back to the beach and look for more shells and sand dollars.” Her face and lower arms already bore a sun-touched glow, aided by generous application of suntan oil—coconut scented, no less.
Betsy enjoyed having her sister nearby, but as usual, Emma had made herself the center of attention. She stopped her childish thoughts again. Life seemed to come easier for Emma. Maybe it was being the youngest. Betsy had enough to be thankful for in her own life.
“And what about you, Betsy?” Vera Byler was asking.
“Me?”
“The annual Pinecraft pie contest. I assume you will be entering.”
The others looked at her—Mamm, Emma, Vera and her daughter Patience, as well as friends Miriam and Abigail.
“I suppose I will.” She hadn’t thought about it, her primary focus being the bakery.
“You should,” Emma said. “I’m surprised you didn’t enter last year.”
No, last year she’d been working her first real job and waiting in Florida, hoping Jacob would realize she was the one for him.
“Maybe I will.”
“You know, it might not be the best idea,” Vera said. “I know you’re busy with the bakery, where customers have ample opportunity to taste your pie all the time.”
“Actually, I think it would be good publicity.” The idea appealed to Betsy the more it turned itself around in her mind. The newspapers and media people would be there. The judges, however, were formidable, including a local Beachy Amish Mennonite woman whose palate for pie was unrivaled. The first time the woman had visited the bakery, Betsy had been shaking in her shoes. But the woman’s warmth set her at ease.
“Publicity is a few hairs short of boasting.” Vera punctuated her statement by sealing her lips into a thin line.
Betsy bit her own lip and considered her response. “I am simply trying to be a good steward of what my family has entrusted me with, and the more customers I can find, the better. What better place, than at a pie contest?”
Vera tugged on Patience’s arm. “Come, we have much to do.”
“Do?” Patience was asking, but Vera was already hauling her daughter away.
Mamm shook her head. “That lady. Pay her no mind. I think she is just jealous, but will never admit to such. I know I had my doubts, but your bakery is lovely and the food is gut.”
“Thank you, Mamm.”
“Well, is Daed ready to leave yet?” Emma scanned the group of men, still milling about and talking.
“I do not know.” She glanced at Betsy. “You two can walk to Rochelle’s home and see if Aenti Sarah needs any help.”
Betsy nodded. She was past ready to leave and had been holding down her fidgets. “I’ll start laying out the leftovers for everyone.” Of course, the family would all descend on Aenti Chelle’s home to plunge their forks into the remainders of the Thanksgiving meal and see Aenti Sarah.
Emma stepped along beside Betsy. “I’ve missed you.�
�
“And I’ve missed you.” They strolled down Kaufman in the direction of Shrock, toward Aenti Chelle’s. A few passersby, also on their way from church, waved and nodded to the sisters. “This place is practically empty in the summertime, and I have no one to go to the beach with.”
“The only one missing from Pinecraft is Eli.” She frowned, her lips curving into a little girl’s pout. “He doesn’t get any time off from the machine shop until they close for two weeks at Christmas.”
“He’s coming to Pinecraft, though, isn’t he?” Betsy caught a whiff of someone’s supper, drifting across the street.
“Yes, but Daed and Mamm are heading back to Ohio the day after Christmas. Daed has end-of-the year reports to oversee.” She cast a sideways glance at Betsy. “Maybe if you said something to them, I could stay with you and Aenti Chelle until New Year’s, or even later. Starting now.”
“Starting now?”
“I can help with Aenti Sarah. Besides, I feel like I’m staying with all the old people.”
“Old people?”
“Yes, Mamm, Daed, our grandparents, all the oncles and aentis …” Emma shrugged. “Aenti Chelle is older than us, but she doesn’t act old.”
Betsy said nothing. Emma always seemed to have an ulterior motive. She probably did in this case, too. Emma thrived on being right in the middle of something happening. Here in Pinecraft, something was always happening, or about to happen. Especially in the winter seasons. But Betsy and Aenti Chelle spent the majority of their time working, not vacationing.
“I don’t know if me speaking to Daed on your behalf would help. You’re old enough; you can talk to him yourself.”
“Well, all right. Maybe I can help you in the bakery sometimes, too. I know we’ll have much more fun running it, instead of Vera looking over your shoulder all the time. I can’t believe what she said about your bakery. And her, helping you, too!” Emma’s words echoed off the side of one of the houses.
“Shush, not so loud.” Betsy glanced around. “You probably heard about Thaddeus, and Daed not finding him suitable to help.”
“He does have a point. Thaddeus didn’t look Amish to me at all, the one time I saw him. Customers go to Pinecraft Pies and Pastry wanting to eat Amish food.”
“You sound like Daed … and no, Thaddeus doesn’t look Amish. You should have seen him before he started shaving regularly. He always had this, almost beard, but not a real beard.” Betsy’s earlier thoughts began dancing in her head. Stop. He may have a kind heart and gentle, strong spirit, but everything else about him is wrong.
Emma stopped on the street and pulled Betsy’s arm, tugging her to a stop. “You like him. Oh, my. It’s all over your face, in your eyes. Won’t Daed be shocked, his perfect one all mooning over someone like Thaddeus Zook?”
“I’m not the perfect one, Emma. And—” She wanted to add, “I don’t think of Thaddeus like that,” but it would be a lie. “Anyway, he has been a big help and I’m not sure how long he’s planning to stay in Pinecraft. He’s worked at fancy Englisch restaurants as a pastry chef. It wouldn’t surprise me if he ends up going back in Ohio.”
“Aha. Well, we must pray for him, then.”
It was Betsy’s turn to stare. Emma never spoke in such a way. Not free, irrepressible Emma. Truthfully, Betsy was surprised Emma hadn’t run off, with such a curiosity of the Englisch and the world at large. Perhaps they had Eli to thank for it.
“You know, you’re right. We should pray for him. He seems lost and sad. He’s different from anyone else I’ve known.”
“Why’d he leave?”
“I suppose it was to finish his education and go to culinary school. He’s almost twenty-eight.”
“Ah. I’m glad I didn’t have to keep on with school.”
At this, Betsy laughed. Trust Emma to bring the conversation back to herself again. Here they were, at Aenti Chelle’s. An unfamiliar vehicle was in the driveway, parked beside Aenti Chelle’s minivan.
“Oh, did I tell you?” Emma continued. “Aenti Chelle’s nephew Steven—he’s actually her cousin’s wife’s brother’s nephew, so no relation—is taking a bunch of us out on his boat fishing. I can’t wait. I’ve never been out fishing before.”
“No, you didn’t tell me that. I went last winter. I liked it, but I felt a little queasy from the waves.”
“I sure hope I don’t get seasick.”
Betsy and Emma headed up the walk, the sound of a male and female voice coming through the screen door.
“… should almost be home from church any minute. I stayed with Aenti Sarah today,” Aenti Chelle was saying.
“Ah, I was bad. I skipped church this morning. I get migraines.”
Daniel Troyer.
Betsy frowned as she pulled open the door.
“What is it?” Emma asked, entering behind Betsy.
“I’ll tell you later,” she whispered. Surely, Thaddeus would find out something about this man soon.
*
Thad yawned his good morning to Betsy and her new shadow, Vera Byler, on Monday. After a few hours of prep, the apple and other fruit pie fillings were ready and waiting for the ladies to pop fresh pie into the ovens and get the fried pies going. That, and start the doughnuts, which were a surprising hit in the village. She’d discovered people much preferred the apple cider doughnuts over the plain sugar glazed.
“I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” Betsy said as she allowed Vera to enter ahead of her. She gave him a pointed look. Of course, she probably wanted to know if he’d learned anything about Daniel Yoder.
“Did you preheat the ovens?” Vera asked him.
“Fifteen minutes ago,” Thad replied. “Betsy, I have an idea for a new pie, if you’d like to try it. I can prepare one and have it ready for you tomorrow morning.”
“Oh, what’s that?”
“Tiramisu.”
“I’d very much like to try it. I had it in a restaurant once. Not as a pie, though.” She stopped, then looked as though she were going to continue.
“I need to show you something about the coffee maker, for a moment.”
“Certainly.”
She followed him into the seating area of the bakery. “I need this cleaned out, tonight, if you could. I’d do it, but I’m afraid I’d never figure out how the pieces go together.”
“No problem.”
Betsy glanced toward the doorway to the kitchen. “Did you find anything out about Daniel Troyer?”
“So far, I confirmed the company he works for is legit. But they’ve been closed for the holiday weekend. So I’m going to call them this morning, as soon as they open.”
“All right.” She frowned. “I still feel silly.”
“No.” He smiled at her, in spite of his resolve to keep a distance. “If it’s nothing, it’s nothing, and it’ll be forgotten.”
“All right.”
He wanted to pour himself a cup of coffee after the brew was ready, and sit in the corner while munching on a fresh fried pie, but the desire for sleep won out. He yawned. If he stayed much longer, they’d probably find him slumped over the table and facedown on his fried pie.
Thad yawned again. “Don’t worry. As soon as I know something concrete, I’ll let you know.”
She smiled at him and he felt its tug on his heart. But he gave her a slight wave as he left the bakery through the front door.
No way, buddy. He’d heard in a roundabout way of her unreturned interest in his second cousin Jacob, and he did feel sorry for her. Betsy would make any Plain man a fine wife.
He almost stopped short in the street. Not just any man. Not for Betsy. She had a spark, a creative spirit not always encouraged among her people like it should be. Pride lurked behind every doorway, with every delicious bite of food, with every accolade. He knew it and had seen it. The war against pride and self-promotion was a battle they were taught to fight since childhood. Again, the sensation of having one foot planted in the Englisch world with the other still glued to the
Plain life set off an inner tug-of-war with him in the middle.
“Morning, Thaddeus.” One of the three “preacher” brothers, James or John, greeted him as the older man passed by on his tricycle.
“Good morning.” He nodded at the man, but the man had already zipped past on his tricycle.
Maybe he ought to purchase one for himself. Yet another thought to make him pause. But he already had a fuel-efficient motorcycle to take him away from here when the time came.
He turned the corner to Mammi’s street and saw a vehicle in front of her house.
A police cruiser?
Thad broke into a run. A few neighbors milled outside on the front walk.
“Mammi!” He took the steps in one leap and stumbled through the front door and into the living room. A pair of Sarasota police officers stood in the center of the front room, with Mammi sitting serenely on the couch, her hands folded on her lap.
The three of them stared.
“It’s all right, Thaddeus. Someone broke into the house.” Mammi smiled at him. She might as well have said, “I weeded the flower garden this morning,” with her matter-of-fact manner.
“Were you home? Are you all right?”
“I’m perfectly fine. I had gone for my morning walk with my friends and I had just come back for breakfast. The others left before you got home, the men deep sea fishing and the women on a bus trip to explore Tampa.”
“And this is … ?” One officer—his name badge said Kitchens—glanced from Mammi to Thad.
“My grandson, Thaddeus. He’s been living with me.”
“Ah.” The officer nodded. “Mr. Zook, we’re going to need you to let us know if anything is missing from your belongings.”
“Uh, sure.” Thad remained standing, but he wanted to rush to Mammi’s side. “How did they get in?”
“The kitchen window, by the table. They cut the screen.” Mammi shook her head. “I’ve never had anything like this happen here, officers.”
“Mammi, we’re still in a city. I know it feels safe here, but …” Thad scanned the room. Mammi’s living room was tidy, uncluttered. The drawers to her coffee table rested on the floor, their meager contents of pen and note pads and a package of chewing gum, along with several wrapped mints, scattered on the floor.
A Path Made Plain Page 16
