The Middlefield Family Collection

by Kathleen Fuller

  Johnny let out a whoop while Chris’s hand went limp in Katherine’s. He nodded and ran out of the barn. Katherine started to follow him, ignoring Johnny as she had vowed to do.

  “Katie?”

  She stopped. He had never called her that before. She turned around. He looked as tired as she felt.

  “You stayed here all night?” he asked.

  Katherine nodded. “She’s mei best friend. Although I couldn’t do much but pray.”

  “That means a lot.” He glanced away. “To Mary Beth. To all of us. I mean, uh, I’m sure it will mean a lot when she finds out.”

  Katherine nodded. As always things were awkward between them, and it was mostly her fault. If she hadn’t chased him so incessantly, hadn’t been so pathetic in her yearning for him, he might not run the other way every time she was near. They might have been friends.

  But he wasn’t running now. He hadn’t moved. Instead he continued to stare at her.

  Katherine turned away. She couldn’t afford to overanalyze a simple look. Still he stared at her, the way . . .

  The way Isaac did.

  The thought dropped into her mind unbidden: There were other men in the world. Johnny Mullet wasn’t the only one.

  Johnny couldn’t stop staring at Katherine.

  In his weariness he’d slipped and called her Katie. It was how he referred to her in his mind. There were many Katherines in Middlefield, but only one Katie Yoder.

  “I better get home. I’m sure mei parents are worried about me,” she said, turning away.

  He didn’t want her to go. But he wasn’t ready to tell her the truth. Not yet. “Katherine?”

  “Ya?” she asked, not facing him.

  “Danki. For staying with mei schweschder.”

  She nodded and hurried out of the barn. Away from him.

  He leaned against the thick barn post. The horses whinnied in their stalls, signaling their hunger. “Just a minute,” he said softly. He gathered his thoughts and his energy. If he was tired, he could only imagine what Mary Beth had gone through.

  Actually, he’d rather not imagine it.

  He said a prayer of thanks that his sister and niece were well, then turned to take care of the horses. Despite his exhaustion, he couldn’t quit grinning. He was an uncle now. Hard to believe. He couldn’t wait to meet his niece.

  As he fed the horses and cleaned up the barn, he said another prayer of thanks. Things were going well. He had his own place, and in a few months, the start of a horse farm. His sister and her baby were fine. And Katie—each day he was closer to telling her his real feelings. To starting the future he had dreamed of the past few months.

  His life couldn’t get any better.

  CHAPTER 4

  “I’m sorry, sohn. I wish I didn’t have to do this.”

  Johnny froze in disbelief as Gideon Bender spoke. Just this morning he was counting his blessings. Two hours later his boss yanked the rag rug from under his boots.

  “But I thought business was picking up.” He looked around the small shop, filled with broken machines in need of repair.

  “It is. But other businesses aren’t.” Bender wiped his grease-covered hands on an old towel and flung it onto a nearby workbench. “John, Zach lost his job at Kline’s buggy shop. Kline laid him off yesterday.”

  A knot of dread formed in Johnny’s gut.

  “You’re like familye to me. I hope you know that. But mei sohn has a frau and kinn to take care of. He needs the work. He needs my help.”

  So do I.

  “You understand, ya? Business is gut, but I don’t have enough work to keep both of you.” He glanced away, running his thumb against the dirty Formica countertop. “I can give you two more weeks.”

  “That’s it?” The words thawed Johnny’s body. He clasped his hands behind his head, not caring anymore how desperate he looked. Or sounded.

  “I wish it could be different. You’ve been loyal to me and the job. I’ve always appreciated that.” His expression turned grim. “You have a gut work ethic, more so than my sohn had. At least at first. But Zach’s come around. He’s grown into a fine mann.” Bender’s throat bobbed.

  Johnny was familiar with the strife between father and son, strife that had lessened over the years, especially after Zach married Ruth Byler and became a father. But Johnny hadn’t thought he’d be replaced. He knew Zach had been happy at the buggy shop. Like Johnny had been happy working here.

  Bender sighed. “I don’t see any other way. I can’t abandon mei own familye.”

  Johnny nodded, swallowing the stone lodged in his throat. “I know.”

  “If you need a recommendation, I’ll be happy to give you one.” The old man’s weary gaze finally met Johnny’s.

  A recommendation.

  Johnny gritted his teeth. A recommendation wouldn’t pay to fix the house or rebuild the barn. It wouldn’t provide grain for his horse or food for his own table. Only a week had passed since he bought the farm, and he’d barely started work on it. Without a job, he couldn’t afford to do anything.

  “Here are your past two weeks’ wages.” Bender handed him a check.

  Johnny looked at the amount, and his last shred of hope crumbled. Enough to last him two or three weeks of living on his own, taking care of his basic needs and not much more. He’d have one more check, then that would be it. Less than a month to find another job—and jobs were hard to come by. Even Caleb was struggling to find work—he hadn’t had a steady job since he graduated from school three years ago.

  Even in the midst of his own desperation, Johnny couldn’t hold this against Bender. He could see the man was struggling with the decision. “Danki,” he said, folding the check and putting it in his pocket. Then he held out his hand. After a moment’s hesitation, Bender shook it.

  “Don’t thank me. You earned every penny.” He paused before touching Johnny’s shoulder. “I hope you know this isn’t personal. It’s just business.” Johnny could only nod. Bender turned away, snatched up a screwdriver from the toolbox, and began working on a generator a customer had brought in last week. The conversation ended as quickly as he’d ended Johnny’s employment.

  During the day Johnny tried to focus on repairing a wringer washer, but his mind kept drifting. Where would he find another job? He would start at the woodshop first. Maybe Sawyer’s family was hiring. But the only job they ever seemed to hire out for was the office position, and Laura, Sawyer’s girl, already had that job.

  Bitterness surged inside him. His dream was slipping away before he’d had a chance to make it come true.

  At five o’clock he picked up his still-full lunch cooler and left the shop. As the sun dipped behind the roof of Bender’s shop, Johnny tossed the cooler into his buggy and climbed inside.

  When he reached home he pulled into the driveway and parked the buggy outside the decrepit barn. It reminded him of the old barn Sawyer had hid in when he was fourteen, the year his parents died and he ran away from foster care. Mary Beth had found Sawyer there, and he and Johnny had become best of friends.

  For the first time that day Johnny’s mood lifted. Sawyer would get him a job at the Bylers’—even something part-time would be a start. He could trust his friend to help him out. And he would continue to look—and pray—for other work to turn up.

  But he had to find something soon.

  He couldn’t fail. Everything hinged on this horse farm.

  Everything.

  Katherine sat at the kitchen table, piecing together pale green and white squares of fabric. Another baby quilt, this time for her friend Rachel, who was expecting a baby in the summer. Katherine was nineteen and Johnny had just turned twenty, but many of their friends had already married or were paired off.

  She sighed and her fingers slipped. The needle plunged into the pad of her thumb.

  “Ow.” She brought her thumb to her mouth just as her younger sister, Bekah, came into the kitchen. Bekah grabbed a cookie from the plate on the counter.


  “I think Mamm’s taking those to the Mullets later today.”

  “She won’t miss just one.” Bekah leaned against the counter and bit into the soft cookie. “You look tired.”

  “I am.” Fatigue wrapped around Katherine as she bent over the quilt. But the work kept her mind off Johnny.

  She had dreamed about him the few hours she slept. Again. She didn’t remember much of the dream, but he’d been there. During the day she could keep her mind occupied with other things, but she couldn’t control him in her subconscious.

  “That’s great news about Mary Beth,” Bekah said. “What did she name the boppli?”

  “Johanna.” Katherine slid the needle through the three layers of fabric and batting.

  “That’s a lovely name.” She sat down across from Katherine.

  “Don’t get crumbs on the quilt.”

  “I won’t.” Bekah finished the cookie, brushing her hands to the side. She cupped her chin on her hand. “So . . . was Johnny there?”

  “He was praying in the barn with Chris. Caleb was in the house with Eli.”

  “I didn’t ask about Caleb.”

  “I figured you would eventually.”

  “Because he’s a friend.” She sighed. “Caleb Mullet is the least of my problems.”

  Katherine put down the needle. “What do you mean?”

  “I think I figured out a way to get Melvin Miller to leave me alone.”

  Katherine suppressed a sigh. It pained her that Bekah, who wasn’t interested in boys at all, had a whole supply of them nipping at her heels. “I didn’t realize he was bothering you,” she said, focusing on her quilting, not wanting Bekah to see any trace of jealousy.

  “He’s not a bother. Just annoying. Like everyone else.” Bekah shook her head. “I wish he’d get the point. Some people can be so hardheaded.”

  Katherine winced.

  “Oh, I didn’t mean you.” Bekah held out her hands. “I know what you feel for Johnny is real. He’ll come around. Eventually.” But she didn’t sound convinced.

  “How do you know Melvin’s feelings aren’t real?” Before Bekah could answer, Katherine added, “Why do you want to break his heart?”

  “I’m not breaking his heart.” Bekah leaned back in the chair. “Ach, you can be so dramatic sometimes.”

  Katherine ducked her head down. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Melvin pestering me isn’t like you and Johnny.”

  “You mean he won’t be chasing after you for the next decade?”

  “You don’t chase after Johnny.” Bekah leaned forward. “You can’t help what you feel, Katherine.”

  “Neither can Melvin.”

  Bekah didn’t say anything. Katherine went back to the quilt, making tiny, perfect stitches.

  “Maybe you should do something about Johnny,” Bekah said.

  “You know I’ve tried.” Katherine looked up. “Since grade school I’ve let him know how I feel. I’ve dropped hints about going to singings. I tried to make him jealous, which was a stupid idea. He didn’t even notice when I was sixteen and pretended to like Tom Herschberger.”

  Tom hadn’t noticed either. She was clueless when it came to men.

  Bekah grew quiet again. Finally she said, “Then maybe you should find someone else.”

  Katherine looked up. “Well . . . I might have.”

  Bekah’s eyes lit up. “Really?” She leaned forward. “Do tell.”

  She shrugged. “I’m not sure there’s anything to tell. I met someone at the restaurant yesterday.”

  “Who? Do I know him?”

  “His name is Isaac. He’s new to the area.”

  “What’s his last name? Where’s he from? What does he do?”

  Katherine set down the needle. “I don’t know his last name. He’s from Walnut Creek.” She looked down at the quilt. “Chrystal said he was flirting with me.”

  “And why wouldn’t he? You’re so schee. And nice. Just because Johnny is too dumm to realize it—”

  “Bekah. He’s not dumm. He’s just not . . . interested.”

  “But Isaac is.” Bekah grinned.

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” Katherine smiled. Bekah’s enthusiasm was infectious.

  Their mother came into the kitchen. “Oh gut, Bekah. You’re home. Come with me to visit the Mullets. You can see the new boppli.” She walked to the counter, picked up the plate of cookies, and scowled. “How many did you have, Bekah?”

  “Only one. I promise.”

  As her mother turned around, Bekah mouthed the words, How did she know? Katherine shrugged. Very little got past their mamm.

  Bekah stood. As she and Mamm left the kitchen, Katherine called out, “Say hello to Caleb for me.”

  Bekah turned and stuck her tongue out.

  “Bekah!” Mamm’s voice came from the living room. “That is not appropriate behavior for a young woman.”

  Bekah rolled her eyes and followed her mother out of the house.

  “You don’t have anything?”

  Sawyer looked at Johnny and shook his head.

  “I’d be willing to work part-time. A few hours a week, even.”

  The pleading in his friend’s eyes surprised and confused Sawyer. He’d never seen Johnny so desperate. “Business has slowed down.”

  “Where have I heard that before?” Johnny muttered.

  “What?”

  “Things are tough all over.”

  Sawyer brushed sawdust from a dresser top. “I know. There’s barely enough work for me right now.” He peered over the top of the dresser, a sanding block in his hand. “I wish there was something I could do.”

  Johnny didn’t reply. His eyes darted around the workshop—a trapped animal looking for a way of escape. Sawyer had been surprised when Johnny told him about getting laid off from Bender’s. He thought his friend had a future there.

  “Where else have you looked?” Sawyer asked.

  “I started here.” Johnny started to pace.

  Sawyer shook his head. “Dude. I’m sorry.”

  Johnny shrugged. “Not much I can do, other than look elsewhere. Maybe pray for a miracle.” He turned, his expression suddenly turning from despair to a grin, but Sawyer could still see the worry behind the man’s eyes. “Enough about my problems. When’s the big day?”

  Sawyer went back to sanding. “Which day?”

  “Joining the church.” Johnny smirked. “Why, is there another special day I should know about?”

  Sawyer grinned. “I talk to the bishop next week. So probably after a few weeks of Bishop Esh’s counseling and teaching I’ll be ready to join.”

  “Gut. Looking forward to you being an official part of the community.”

  Sawyer put down the sanding block. “If you need a little help—you know, until you find work—”

  “I’m gut.” He waved his hand. “I’ll figure something out.”

  “Well, if you need anything—other than a job . . .” Sawyer paused. “You know where to find me.”

  Johnny nodded. “Ya.” He looked around. “I’ll let you get back to work. Don’t want you to lose your job.”

  When Johnny started to leave, Sawyer called out after him, “You know that other day you mentioned?”

  Johnny turned around, peering at him from beneath a battered straw hat. “Ya?”

  “November.” Sawyer grinned. “Clear your calendar.”

  Johnny grinned. “You got it.”

  The door hit the frame with a soft bang. Sawyer paused and said a short, silent prayer for his friend. He wasn’t sure what drove Johnny’s desperation, but God knew, and he prayed for His will to be done.

  CHAPTER 5

  “Mrs. Easley, I urge you to reconsider your decision about the tests.” Dr. Clemens looked up from his chart.

  After nearly three weeks Cora had finally given in and kept her appointment. She wasn’t used to being sick and hated all this poking and prodding. The only time in her life she had ever spent a night in the hospital
was when she had given birth to her daughter, Kerry.

  Maybe she should have hired a personal physician instead, one who would make house calls. But a personal physician wasn’t the same as a specialist, and Dr. Clemens was reputed to be one of the best neurologists in Manhattan.

  Still, that didn’t give him the right to use her as a pincushion. She glared at him from her chair in the corner of the exam room. She had refused to sit on the examination table; she was here out of courtesy only, to make sure the doctor understood her position.

  She fingered the diamond tennis bracelet dangling from her thin wrist. “I’m finished being your guinea pig.”

  “Mrs. Easley, these tests aren’t experimental. I just want to make sure we’ve covered all the bases. I assumed you would want me to be as thorough as possible.”

  “I believe you have been, Dr. Clemens. You’ve already given me a diagnosis. I need to know how much time I have.”

  The doctor paused for a moment. “I can’t tell you that. Parkinson’s is different in every patient. Some, with the right medication and therapy, live for a long time. For others the time is . . . shorter.” He sighed and whirled on his stool so he could face her straight on. “All the information is in the pamphlets I gave you.”

  “Oh yes. Scintillating reading. I can’t wait for my body to shut down completely. What a glorious day that will be.”

  Dr. Clemens didn’t say anything. He turned and wrote something down on her chart. “This can be a difficult diagnosis to accept, Mrs. Easley. We have counseling services available—”

  “Are you saying I’m crazy too?”

  He shook his head and stopped writing. “What I’m saying is that if you’re having a difficult time emotionally, there are ways we can help you.”

  Cora stood. “This conversation is over.”

  “Mrs. Easley.” The doctor also stood. “If you would prefer another physician, I can recommend a few of my colleagues. My goal is for you to receive the best care, and if you feel you need a second opinion, I will respect that.”

  His words stopped her from leaving. She looked up at him, stunned that this man, whom she only knew on a professional basis, cared enough to drop his ego and step aside. But she didn’t want a second opinion. She didn’t want any of this.