Cora didn’t answer. The engine was still running, the driver sitting in the front seat, reading a magazine.
Water dripped from the porch eave, splashing against Anna’s dress. She barely noticed. Her son’s only blood relative stood a few feet away. Clothed in fancy furs and expensive jewelry and possessing the disposition of a woman used to getting what she wanted. What would Sawyer do when he found out?
Anna rushed to the car, ignoring her bare feet and the pelting rain. “You’re leaving?”
Cora Easley peered down her narrow nose. “If you won’t tell me where my grandson is, I’ll visit every carpentry shop in this pathetic town until I find him.”
Anna looked at Cora. How could this woman be Sawyer’s grandmother? Sawyer was kind, easygoing, compassionate— everything she wasn’t. Besides that, where had she been when Sawyer was abandoned? When he had no one? She couldn’t just stroll into their lives now and start making demands.
Anna crossed her arms over her chest and bit back the words, for her son’s sake. “Sawyer is an adult. He takes care of himself now.”
“So you’re saying he doesn’t live here?”
“He does, by his own choosing. But his life is his own.”
Cora looked at the driver. “That’s because he doesn’t know he has other options.”
“How could he, when he has no idea you even exist?” Anna bit her bottom lip. The words had flown out of her mouth. She should have held her tongue.
The woman’s eyes blazed. “Let’s go,” she said to the driver, her teeth clenched. She shot Anna a scathing look. “I will deal solely with my grandson from this point forward.”
“Nee!” Anna touched her arm.
Cora jerked from her grasp. “Excuse me?”
Anna reined in her anger. She couldn’t let it get the best of her. Not unless she wanted to alienate this woman, and possibly Sawyer.
“I’ll take you to see him.”
“I thought you said he was busy.”
“He is, but—” Anna took in a shuddering breath. The last thing she wanted to do was take this woman to meet Sawyer, yet she didn’t see any other choice. Cora was determined to find him. Besides, if they went to the workshop together, Lukas would be there. Anna needed her husband by her side. “It’s not too far away.”
“Finally, you’re being reasonable.” Cora looked around the driveway, searching over Anna’s shoulder at the barn behind her. “Where is your car?”
Anna heard the taxi driver snicker. She shot him a quieting glance. He wasn’t helping matters. “I don’t have a car. It won’t take me but a second to hitch up the buggy.”
“Buggy?” Cora’s voice faltered a bit.
“Looks like you don’t need me anymore.” The taxi driver opened the trunk and deposited three huge suitcases on the gravel driveway.
Cora’s thin brows lifted almost to her hairline. “What are you doing? Be careful with that—it’s all very expensive.”
“You heard the lady,” he said. “She’ll take you where you need to go.”
“But you can’t leave. I still need to find suitable lodging for tonight.”
The cab driver shut the trunk. “I think you’ll find the hospitality here just fine.” He got inside the car and backed out of the driveway.
“I never should have paid him in advance,” Cora muttered.
Anna stared at the luggage, fine-grained tan leather with gold monograms on the outside. “I’ll take those in the haus. They’ll dry out there. Then I’ll get my shoes and hitch up the buggy. You can come inside and wait in the living room.”
Cora stared at the cab as it disappeared in the distance. “I don’t suppose I have a choice, do I?”
She looked down at her baggage, now splotched with rain and splattered with mud. “No wonder no one wants to visit Cleveland,” she huffed. “These people have no idea how to treat guests.”
CHAPTER 11
During Laura’s second day on the job, she learned more about the Bylers’ business. In early November they geared up for the Christmas season. Sawyer was in charge of finishing the simple toys the shop sold as seasonal gifts, sanding them smooth, applying several coats of varnish, and in the case of small rocking horses, painting the eyes, bridles, reins, and saddles. She could see he had a talent for the job. His skill impressed her. She couldn’t draw a stick figure, much less have the patience to do such detailed work.
She also dealt with her first customer, an English woman— or Yankee, as the Amish here called them—who had just ordered a small wooden sled for her grandson. Laura tried to steady her nerves as she wrote down the information, wincing as she saw her crooked handwriting and hoping the woman didn’t notice.
“Your receipt.” Laura handed her the slip of paper and waited. For the stare. The disgust. At the very least, pity.
“Thank you.” The older woman put the receipt in her purse. She smelled like flowery perfume and mothballs. As she adjusted the bright red felt hat covering her salt-and-pepper hair, she smiled. “I always enjoy doing business with you folks.
I admire your lifestyle so much.”
Laura smiled, surprised. “Thank you. We appreciate your order.”
“You’re most welcome. I must be going. More shopping to do. I like to have all the grandchildren’s gifts bought and wrapped by the first of December. My youngest grandson will just love that sled.” The woman waved as she walked out the door. “You have a nice day.”
“Same to you,” Laura called out. She leaned against the small counter at the front of the shop. The woman hadn’t blinked at Laura’s scars. Was she blind? Laura shook her head, wishing her negative thoughts hadn’t intruded. Why couldn’t she appreciate the few nice moments she had?
“Another rocking horse?” Sawyer came up behind her.
“A sled.”
“Ah. We haven’t made too many of those. I’ll let Tobias know.” He moved, then paused. “How’s it going?”
Laura nodded. “Fine.” Surprisingly fine. The tension in her shoulders eased.
“Good.”
Danki for the ride this morning.” “
“You already thanked me. But I don’t mind hearing it again.” He grinned.
Her equilibrium faltered under the warmth of his smile.
She chided herself for her foolishness. He had to have a girlfriend stashed somewhere. He was too nice and good-looking not to.
Not that she cared whether he did or not.
She exhaled nervously, and the Yankee woman’s invoice slipped off the counter and fluttered to the floor. They both bent over to pick it up. Her head smacked into his.
“Ow!” she said. She pressed her hand against the top of her kapp.
He stood, his face red. “Laura, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” She rubbed her head.
“Are you sure?” He moved closer. “You don’t have a knot or anything?”
“Really, Sawyer. I’m fine.” She stepped back, disoriented by a fluttery feeling in her stomach.
“I’m okay, in case you were wondering.” He leaned his hip against the counter.
“Sorry.” How could he be so unaware of how attractive he was? Why couldn’t she stop noticing it? “I s’pose I oughta get back to work.”
Sawyer chuckled.
“What’s so funny?”
“You.” He grinned. “You’re just very direct. When you do talk, that is.”
“I don’t believe in wasting time.”
“I can see that.”
Laura turned to go to her office before she made a bigger fool of herself. Initially, her biggest concern about the job had been dealing with the public. Now she was more worried about keeping herself immune to the charms of Sawyer Thompson.
“Wait,” he said.
She turned. “Ya?”
“Would you like to go to lunch today? I can show you around town and we can stop and pick up a bite to eat.”
Laura clung to the invoice. “I have a lot of work to
do.”
“You have to eat.”
“I have lunch at my desk.”
“Not much of a break.”
“I don’t need one.”
He tapped his fingers against the smooth wood countertop.
“Everyone needs a break.”
“I’m sure you can find someone else to eat with.”
“Ouch.”
Laura closed her eyes. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“But I understand why you did.” He held out his hands.
“Laura, I’d like to talk to you.”
“We talk enough in the truck.”
He laughed. Her skin tingled at the deep, throaty sound. “I talk in the truck. You listen. Or maybe you tune me out.”
“I don’t tune you out.” She pressed her lips together.
“There’s not much for us to talk about, I guess.”
“Not sure I agree with you on that.”
His answer surprised her enough to meet his gaze. “We don’t have too much in common, in case you haven’t noticed.”
“We have more in common than you think.” He ran the pad of his thumb along the counter. “I know what it’s like to be in a new town.”
“You’ve said that before. More than once.” Her chin twitched. She clenched her hands, resisting the itchiness. It seemed to crop up at the worst times.
“Guess I have said it a couple times. But I also know what it’s like not to fit in.”
She let her gaze rake him from head to foot, taking in his short haircut. Blue jeans from the store. Machine-manufactured sweatshirt. Baseball cap with an orange football helmet on it.
Today must be his English day. He switched from Amish to English clothes without any apparent logic. “I think I fit in better here than you do.”
“On the outside, maybe.”
His words forced her to look away. She barely knew this man, yet he somehow managed to peek inside her soul. The vulnerability unnerved her.
“Laura.” He paused, his tone serious, soft. “If you plan to stay here awhile, you’re going to need a friend.”
“The Shetlers are mei friends.”
“I’m glad they are. But I don’t think they understand what you’re going through. I do. I can help.”
“Trust me, Sawyer. I don’t need any help.”
“That’s what I used to say. Especially when I was pushing people away.” His expression held a mix of concern and kindness.
“Just remember, when you’re ready to talk, I’m ready to listen.”
Half an hour later, Laura heard a knock on the office door. She stood from her chair and looked through the glass. A young woman with red hair smiled and waved.
Laura frowned. Katherine Yoder? What was she doing here?
She opened the door. Katherine grinned. “Surprise!”
“Hello,” Laura said. “This is . . . ah, unexpected.”
“That’s what makes it a surprise,” Katherine said. “Today is my day off, so I stopped by Emma’s to say hello.” She came into the office, still bubbling. “Emma said you were working here. Congratulations on the job. Does this mean you’ll be staying in Middlefield?”
“For a while.” Laura spotted a stool in the corner and pulled it out for Katherine. “Do you want to sit down?”
“Sure.” Katherine settled her thin frame on the stool while Laura sat in her office chair across from her. “I’ve never worked in an office before,” Katherine said. “Just at Mary Yoder’s restaurant. Is the work fun?”
Laura looked at Katherine’s wide, bright blue eyes, filled with sweetness. And innocence. “I’m enjoying it so far, but it’s only my second day. I used to work in my familye’s bakery.”
“Oh!” Katherine retrieved a letter from her purse. “Speaking of, Emma wanted me to give you this. She said it was delivered with the morning mail.”
The return address was Etheridge, Tennessee. Laura hesitated before accepting it. Despite the homesickness writhing inside, she didn’t want to read this letter. It would make everything worse. But she took the envelope from Katherine anyway and set it on her desk. “Danki for bringing it. And again, for the quilt. I have it on my bed at the Shetlers’.”
“Gut. That’s what it’s for, to be used.”
Laura watched Katherine’s smiling, animated face. Did this woman ever have a bad day? Was she really that chipper, or simply unaware of reality? She seemed to radiate kindness and warmth, but as Laura well knew, compassion could be faked.
“I really enjoy making them,” Katherine was saying. “Do you sew?”
Laura shook her head. “I can bake. Oh, and do office work.” She returned Katherine’s grin. “I’ve never been very gut with a needle.”
“Oh, then I must teach you how. It’s very easy. We can start with a prayer quilt.”
Laura’s smile faded. “I don’t know . . .”
“Sewing is very important. Especially after you’re married.
You’ll have all the sewing to do for the children, and the grandchildren.” Her gaze grew wistful. Then she shook her head, as if clearing a thought. “I’ve been sewing since I was a kinn. And knitting and crocheting. I taught my cousin Amanda how to crochet a few years ago. She sent me this scarf for Christmas last year.” Katherine held up the dark blue scarf.
“It’s very nice.”
“She lives in Pennsylvania with her familye, but she stayed with us for a school year.” Katherine brought her hand to her mouth. “I’m babbling again. I do that all the time. Mei daed said I was born jabbering and never stopped.”
Laura chuckled. For a moment she forgot about her letter, about Sawyer, about everything. “I’m glad you stopped by, Katherine. And I don’t mind the chattering a bit.”
“Oh gut. Does that mean we’ll work on a quilt together?
We can start with a lap quilt. We’ll do something easy, like a rag pattern. I know the perfect fabric—spring colors. Teals, roses, whites. It will be beautiful.”
“I don’t know. I’d like that, but—”
“You let me get the materials, and we can meet at Emma’s house. Maybe Thursday evening?” She stood. “I’d better go.
See you Thursday. It’ll be fun.”
Katherine was still talking when the door closed behind her.
And despite herself, Laura found herself smiling.
Then her gaze landed on the letter. Laura picked up the envelope. She’d written her parents one letter, and that was while she was in the hospital. She didn’t go into details about the fire or the glass that shattered all over her face. She only told them where she was, that she was safe, and that she wouldn’t be coming home for a while. She should have known it wouldn’t be enough to assuage their concern.
She closed her eyes and bittersweet memories flooded over her. Supper with her parents. Working with her mother in their garden. Helping out in the family bakery. Going to Sunday singings with her friends. Sleeping in her own bed. She’d lived a peaceful life. Content with her family and with herself. Until Mark King appeared.
Seeing her mother’s handwriting thrust the knife of pain and homesickness deeper. She ran a finger under the edge of the seal, pulled out a plain piece of white paper, and began reading.
Dear Laura,
Your father and I were very happy to hear that you’re safe. We were so worried when you ran away. We don’t understand why you left, but we feel it has something to do with Mark. You haven’t been the same since he disappeared.
Please come back home. We miss you and love you. We’re not mad, especially not at you. We just want our daughter back here with us, where she belongs. The past is gone, and all we can do is move forward. Please, Laura, come home.
Love, Mamm
Laura folded the letter, put it back in the envelope, and laid it on her desk. Her parents didn’t understand. She couldn’t expect them to. They were kind, open, and nurturing. Easy targets for a man like Mark.
She had trusted him. They had discussed marriage, so his
questions about their bakery business made sense. But it was just a way to get his hands on the money. She’d been a fool to trust him. A fool about so many things.
But not anymore.
She could handle the homesickness. Much as she might miss her parents and her friends and church, she wouldn’t go back to Tennessee. Not until she finished what she’d set out to do.
A knock sounded at the door, and before she could compose herself, Sawyer walked into the office.
“We just had another customer. I saw Katherine was here with you, so I . . .” He frowned and moved toward her. “Are you okay?”
A tear spilled from her eyes. She averted her gaze and wiped it away. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.” He shut the door and sat on the edge of the desk. “Katherine didn’t upset you, did she?”
“Of course not.” Laura sniffed and looked at Sawyer, feigning a smile. “She’s so sweet and . . . cheerful. I can’t imagine her upsetting anyone.”
“I’ve never known her to.” He scanned her face for a moment, then his eyes focused on the desk. He nodded. “A letter from home?”
Laura snatched the letter and shoved it into a desk drawer.
“This really isn’t your business.”
“I know it isn’t. But anyone can see you’re struggling right now.”
She sat up straight and clenched her jaw. “I won’t let it affect my work. I promise.”
“I know. That’s not what I meant.” He leaned forward.
“Remember what I said. I’m here if you need me.”
His words unlocked a dam inside, and the tears began to well up again. “We hardly know each other.” She pulled back, covering her face with her hands. “I don’t understand why you care.”
“Because if there’s anything I’ve learned from living with the Amish, it’s that they care about each other. Isn’t it that way in your community?”
Laura looked up. “Ya.”
“And if someone you knew was struggling . . . hurting . . .”
He swallowed and looked away for a moment. “Wouldn’t you try to help, if you could?”
She stared at him. She’d been so consumed by her own pitiful, vengeful thoughts she hadn’t given anyone else much consideration. She nodded.
The Middlefield Family Collection Page 30
