The Middlefield Family Collection

by Kathleen Fuller

  She lifted her head as she heard Bekah come in. “Where have you been?” she asked.

  “Out with some friends. If I’d known you were home, I would have invited you to come along.”

  “I had to work late.” A sharp pain pierced her temple. She winced.

  Bekah didn’t seem to notice. “How about if you geh to the singing with us this Sunday? It’s at Judith Miller’s.”

  The same singing Isaac had invited her to. “Sure you’ll be able to avoid Melvin?”

  “I’m not worried about him.” She plopped down on the couch. “I’m not going to let a bu ruin fun with mei friends.” She looked at Katherine. “So? Will you come?”

  Katherine shook her head and looked down at the book. “I don’t think so.”

  “You haven’t been to a singing in years.”

  “I’m not interested.” She didn’t mention Isaac’s invitation. “There’s no rule that says I have to geh to those things.”

  Bekah sighed. “Are you afraid you’ll run into Johnny? Because that won’t be a problem. He never goes either.”

  Katherine glanced up. She knew why she didn’t go—she couldn’t bear to see him talking to the other girls. But Johnny was more social than she was, and she knew he had attended singings when he was younger. Why had he stopped?

  “Maybe that schee mann who visited yesterday will be there.”

  “He won’t.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “Because he already left town.” She touched her temple again.

  “Still have your headache?” Bekah leaned forward, the ribbons of her kapp swinging against the front of her lavender dress.

  “Ya.” Katherine forced a smile. “But it should geh away soon.”

  “You took something for it?”

  She nodded but didn’t say how many aspirin she’d taken over the past twenty-four hours trying to rid herself of the pain assaulting her head. “I’m sure it will start working soon.”

  “I hope so.” Bekah yawned. “I’m heading upstairs. Guten nacht. Hope you feel better.”

  “Danki.”

  As Bekah went upstairs, Katherine started to open the book again. But she set it aside instead. She wished she could be like Bekah. She wanted to go to a singing, enjoy time with her friends, and be cavalier. Maybe she would attend the next one. Or she would wait for Isaac to return—if he kept his promise to write to her.

  She headed upstairs, turned on the battery-powered lamp, and took off her kapp. As she undressed, the pain in her head started to lessen. She brushed out her hair and put it in a ponytail, pinning a kerchief over it. She turned off the light and lay down.

  But she couldn’t sleep. The headache was almost gone, but her thoughts still whirred. She tossed and turned for a short while, then gave up in frustration and went downstairs. Maybe a snack would help her sleep.

  As she approached the kitchen, she saw the lamp was still lit. Bekah obviously had the same idea. But when she walked into the room, she saw her mother cutting a piece of chocolate cake left from supper.

  Katherine frowned. Her mother was always early to sleep and early to rise. “Mamm?”

  Her mother jumped, and the cake knife clattered to the floor. She turned to Katherine, her hand on her chest. “Goodness, you surprised me.”

  “I can see that.” Katherine picked up the knife off the floor and rinsed it in the sink. “Is there any cake left?”

  “I only took a small piece.” Her mother picked up her plate and walked to the table. She put her finger to her lips. “Don’t tell your daed.”

  “He won’t care if you have a snack, Mamm.” Her mother was still as thin as she was when she married. Katherine’s father had said as much when her mother had complained about one of her dresses being a little tight. But in Katherine’s eyes, and obviously her father’s, her mother’s figure was perfect.

  “I don’t mean that.” Mamm sat down. “If he knows there’s cake left, he’ll want some. That mann needs to watch his waistline.”

  Katherine smiled. Unlike her mother, her father had plumped up a little over the years.

  “Don’t get me wrong. I love him as he is. I just want him to be healthy.” She looked at the cake in front of her. Then she pushed it away. “I should probably set an example, then.”

  Katherine pushed the plate back in front of her mom. “A small slice won’t hurt. Let me get a piece, and I’ll join you.”

  Moments later they were both eating cake and drinking milk. The gas lamp in the kitchen hissed, casting the room in a low, yellowish glow. “We haven’t done this in years,” Mamm said.

  “What?”

  “Have milk and cake together. Or milk and cookies. Or milk—”

  “And whoopee pies.”

  Mamm smiled. “You did love whoopee pies.”

  “I still do.” She took a sip of milk. “I just don’t eat them very often.”

  “It’s nice to see you eating now.” Her smile faded. “I’ve been a little worried about you lately, Katherine. The headaches, and you haven’t had much of an appetite. And you’ve been very secretive. You never did tell me about the friend you helped a couple days ago.” She set down her fork. “Is there anything you want to talk about?”

  “There’s nix to talk about.”

  It was a small lie. All right, a big one. There was plenty she could talk about, but not with her mother. Lately she hadn’t even talked with God. Why should she, when He never answered her prayers about Johnny? Or maybe His silence had been her answer, and she hadn’t been able to accept it. Until Isaac showed up.

  “Does this have anything to do with Johnny Mullet?”

  Heat crept up Katherine’s neck. She couldn’t outright lie to her mother. Yet embarrassment kept her from saying anything. “There’s nothing going on, Mamm. I just helped a friend. That’s it.” Katherine ran her finger against the edge of the table, not looking at her mother.

  Mamm sighed. “I suppose it’s none of my business. You’re a grown woman now. You have a right to your own life. To your own secrets.”

  “That’s not what I meant—”

  “I’m not upset, Katherine. Every woman has a right to keep a few things to herself. I just hope that whatever you’ve been doing doesn’t have anything to do with Johnny. Because that’s one person in your life you’ve never been secretive about.” She picked up her fork again. “I know you care about Johnny. But he’s only managed to make you miserable.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Isn’t it? What has he done lately to make you happy?”

  Katherine couldn’t reply. If anything, Johnny made her feel worse about herself. Like a fool. She looked away.

  “You’ve wasted enough time and energy on that mann, Katherine. Please tell me you’ve finally come to the point of letting him geh.”

  “I—”

  She tried, but the words wouldn’t come. Inside, she’d given up on Johnny. To say it out loud, however, would make it real. But wasn’t that what she was trying to do? As difficult as it was, she needed to admit that Johnny was out of her life. For good.

  Her mother let out a long breath and leaned back against her chair. “You don’t know how long I’ve been praying for you.” She smiled. “To move on with your life. Find a mann who deserves you. One who appreciates you for the special woman you are.”

  Katherine’s eyes burned as the full realization of Johnny’s rejection went through her. He didn’t care. He didn’t appreciate her. He never had.

  “Ya,” she said, swallowing the tears that threatened to fall. “You’re right.”

  Excitement sparkled in Mamm’s eyes. “I was talking with Sarah Detweiler the other day. She said that her sister’s gross-sohn just turned twenty. He lives in another district, but she was telling me about him. He’s a nice yung mann. Has his own business.”

  “Mamm—”

  “I’m sure Sarah would be happy to introduce you.”

  Katherine looked at her slice of cake. She’
d only taken one bite. The ache in her neck returned. Should she tell Mamm about Isaac? Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t bring herself to mention his name.

  “You don’t have to meet him right now.” Her mother stood up and took her empty plate to the sink. “How about next week?” She turned and smiled. “But I don’t want to put any pressure on you.”

  Right. No pressure. “I’ll think about it.”

  Mamm walked over to her and kissed the top of her head. “Gut. Your daed and I just want you to be happy, dochder. When you put Johnny behind you, I believe you will be.”

  Her mother left, but Katherine didn’t move. She just sat there, staring at the cake in front of her.

  She’d wasted years believing Johnny was the man for her, that they would be happy together. Praying, hoping, longing, imagining. Now she knew that wasn’t going to happen. And her heart was in more turmoil than ever.

  CHAPTER 13

  After saying good-bye to Laura, Sawyer had made his way slowly home, his heart heavy. Not just with missing Laura, but also knowing his grandmother was at home, waiting for him. It was late, well past sundown. Perhaps she’d decided to go to bed. Even better, maybe she’d decided to go back to New York.

  Wishful thinking.

  He pushed back his yellow hat and scratched his head. He had no idea what he was going to do about her. She had shown up in his life four months ago, making demands, telling him he had to abandon the life he had lived the past several years in Middlefield—even the life he’d lived with his parents before their deaths—and accept her values, and especially her money. She’d been genuinely shocked that he’d refused.

  If she had bothered to find out anything about him, instead of expecting him to jump at her command, she would have known that he wouldn’t have been tempted by her money and her power, or by the opportunity to take over her company and settle in New York City.

  And yet here she was again, with her expensive clothes and snooty attitude, looking down with contempt on the adoptive parents who had loved him as if he were their own.

  He gripped the reins until his hands ached. Where did she get the nerve, when she’d never done anything for him?

  He released the reins, trying to push the anger and resentment from his heart. If he was going to join the church, he needed to be clear of these negative emotions he held against Cora. Even though he’d claimed he’d forgiven her, he knew he had a lot more work to do in that department.

  He wished she would just stay in New York and leave him alone. Forgiveness was a whole lot easier long distance.

  He reached the house and put up the horse, giving him a little extra hay. He was beat, and it didn’t help to be thinking about Laura, how much he’d miss her. It amazed him how deeply he’d fallen in love with her in such a short time. The sooner they were together, the better.

  “How nice of you to keep me waiting.”

  Sawyer halted halfway to the stairs. He peered into the living room and made out Cora’s slim shape. She was still wearing the white leather jacket she had on earlier, and she glowed like a ghost in the darkness.

  “What are you doing sitting here in the dark?”

  A pause. “I couldn’t find the lights. There are no switches in this house, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  He went to the end table and lit the gas lamp. “You could have asked my parents.”

  He saw her bristle at the word parents, but he didn’t care. That’s what Anna and Lukas Byler were to him—parents, and much more of a family to him than Cora would ever be.

  “I didn’t want to bother them.”

  She glanced away as she spoke, and Sawyer realized her lie.

  She was too proud to ask his parents where the lights were. A simple question, yet one that would make a woman like Cora Easley feel like a fool. Maybe he understood his grandmother better than he thought.

  He eased down onto the couch opposite her. “You didn’t have to wait up for me.”

  “You didn’t give me much choice.”

  “Why didn’t you go to bed? We could have talked in the morning.”

  “Oh no.” She wagged her finger in his face. “I know the insane time you people get up. You would have been long gone to work. I know from experience that I couldn’t talk to you there. And you would have found another reason to avoid me after you finished working.” She leaned back and crossed her thin arms. “I’m no fool, Sawyer.”

  “As you’ve said many times.” He leaned back against the cushions of the couch. “Okay. I’m here. You have my attention. What do you want to talk about?”

  “As if you don’t know.” She sniffed, peering at him. “I suppose the first thing I should find out is if you really plan to marry her.”

  “Straight to the point, as usual.” Sawyer crossed one foot over the opposite knee. “Yes. I’m going to marry her. I already told you that.”

  She frowned. “When?”

  “After I join the church.”

  “Join what church?”

  “The Amish church.”

  “I don’t understand. Why do you have to join a church to get married?”

  “It’s the Amish way.” He wasn’t ready to explain everything to her. Or rather, he didn’t want to. She didn’t respect the Amish way of life; how could he expect her to appreciate their faith? How could she possibly understand that the church wasn’t a building, but an all-encompassing lifestyle?

  “The Amish way.” She waved her hand. “I suppose a New York wedding is out of the question.”

  She uncrossed her arms and put her hands in her lap. Sawyer thought he saw her hands tremble, but she quickly clasped them together.

  “We’re getting married here. In the Amish church. During an Amish ceremony.”

  “Can I at least plan a reception at my penthouse? It will be small. Your . . . family . . . will be invited, of course.”

  “This isn’t a typical wedding. After the ceremony there will be a community meal. That’s it. Nothing fancy or expensive. Definitely nothing involving the penthouse.”

  “So you would deny me the chance to celebrate my only grandson’s nuptials?” Her thin eyebrows angled downward.

  “I never said that. You’re welcome to attend the wedding. It will be at Adam and Emma Otto’s house.”

  “But you won’t come to New York. That’s hardly fair.”

  “That’s how it has to be.”

  “I don’t see why you’re being so stubborn. About everything.”

  He could see the hurt in her eyes and realized he owed her an explanation. “When I join the church, I’m making a promise. Not just to serve God, but to live by the Ordnung.”

  “The Ord what?”

  “The Ordnung is a set of rules we—the Amish—abide by. I’ve been following some of them since the Bylers adopted me, but they never forced me to go all in with their lifestyle. They let me make the decision.”

  “So the rules forbid your grandmother to have a wedding reception?”

  “Yes. The district will hold the reception.” He leaned forward. “I don’t know why you don’t understand this. Can you imagine introducing me and Laura to your friends?”

  “I would explain the situation.”

  “How would you possibly explain it, when half of what I’m saying doesn’t make sense to you?”

  “Then wait.” Cora’s voice sharpened. “Postpone the ceremony. Let me get to know you and Laura better.”

  “So you can convince us to do things your way?” He shook his head. “No thanks.”

  “That’s not what I mean.” Her face suddenly sagged. “Did it ever occur to you that I came here without an agenda?”

  “To be honest, no.”

  As he spoke the words, guilt pinched at him. Maybe he shouldn’t have presumed. Then he shook his head. This was Cora. When did his grandmother not have an agenda?

  “I want to get to know my grandson. Why is it so hard for you to believe that?”

  Sawyer paused and looked at her. She s
eemed sincere. More sincere than he’d ever seen her. But he still couldn’t trust her. Not completely. “You know you can stay here with the Bylers as long as you want. I won’t be joining the church for a little while. We can get to know each other in the meantime. But I need you to know—I’m not changing my mind. Not about the church, or about Laura. I’ve prayed about this. Joining the church is what I want to do. It’s what I need to do.”

  “If you don’t join the church, can you still marry Laura?”

  He shook his head. “Nee.”

  Cora eyed him. “So this decision—it has everything to do with God and nothing to do with Laura?”

  Sawyer stood. “I knew you wouldn’t understand.”

  She held up her hand. “I’m trying. You’re not giving me a chance.”

  “Look, even if I didn’t marry Laura, I would still join the church. Visiting you in New York helped me make up my mind.”

  “That wasn’t exactly what I intended.”

  “I know. You wanted me to stay.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “But Middlefield is where I belong. This is my family. That doesn’t mean I can’t come visit you, and you’re always welcome to visit us, when we’re settled down.”

  “So you intend to be a carpenter for the rest of your life?” Cora lifted her chin. “You’re going to waste your intelligence by making tables and chairs?”

  “It was good enough for Jesus.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Jesus was a carpenter . . . never mind.”

  “I don’t see what Jesus has to do with this conversation.”

  Of course she wouldn’t. They were further apart than he’d imagined. “My point is that being a carpenter is a good job. It requires skill. People need tables and chairs, you know.”

  “I need you to run my company!”

  He scowled. “It’s still all about you, isn’t it? What you want, what you need.”

  She rose from the chair—slowly, with measured movements. Yet she spoke as she moved. “Sawyer, listen to me—”