The Middlefield Family Collection

by Kathleen Fuller

  She shook her head, the ribbons of her kapp flailing with the movement.

  “You don’t want to?”

  “It isn’t that.” She looked at him with those huge blue eyes of hers. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this.”

  He didn’t say anything for a long moment. “I already told you why.”

  “Tell me again.”

  “I want to see if you remember.”

  A short while later they pulled up in front of a run-down-looking place. Katherine was about to say something when Johnny held up his hand.

  “Don’t. My poor haus can’t take any more insults.”

  “I wasn’t going to insult it. Just comment that it’s . . . interesting.”

  “Actually, it looks better than it once did, thanks to you.”

  “What did I do?”

  “You’ll see.” He jumped out of the buggy and rounded it. He held out his hand. “Come on.”

  She slipped her hand into his. It was warm and rough and strong. As soon as her feet touched the ground she pulled out of his grasp. What was he doing? She hoped his house triggered her memory, despite her doubts. It was the only thing that kept her following him without asking any more questions.

  They walked into the kitchen. “Excuse the dishes,” he said.

  She glanced at the tall pile in the sink.

  “I didn’t have a chance to wash them.” He held out his arms. “Take a look around. See anything you recognize?”

  She took in her surroundings, but nothing clicked. Then she noticed the curtains over the sink. “Those look familiar.”

  “They should. You brought them.”

  “I did? Why?”

  “Because.” He moved closer to her. “That’s the kind of person you are. The kind who thinks about others. Who cares.”

  She averted her gaze, her heart warming at his kind words.

  “Do you remember them?”

  She walked toward the window and touched the fabric. “Ya. I do.”

  He grinned and stood next to her. “Really?”

  “We had the same kind of curtains at home. We replaced them a couple months ago.”

  “Oh.”

  “We should forget this. Just take me home.”

  “Not yet. Not until you’ve seen everything.” He took her to the living room, pointing out she’d brought those curtains too. They went upstairs, then out to the barn, which was clean but in bad shape. After giving her the tour, they went back into the kitchen. She sank down into a chair, frustrated again. “I don’t remember any of this.” She looked up at him. “Why was I here in the first place?”

  “Because I asked you to be.”

  “Why?”

  He didn’t answer right away. “Maybe we should geh. I’m sure you’d rather see Johanna than stay here.”

  She couldn’t help but notice the defeat in his eyes. Everything confused her. She started to leave, then noticed a drawing on the counter near the back door. The words candy shoppe caught her eye. She picked up the drawing. “What’s this?”

  He frowned. “My future.” He took the drawing from her, looked at it for a moment, and then tossed it aside. “Let’s geh.”

  When they reached Mary Beth’s house, Katherine stood at the edge of the porch while Johnny knocked on the door. A few seconds later Mary Beth answered it. Her eyes widened as she looked at Johnny, then Katherine. “This is a nice surprise.”

  “Mind if we come in?”

  She opened the door wider. Katherine looked at the sweet baby Mary Beth cradled in her arms as she stood in the doorway. But as with everything else Johnny had showed her this afternoon, the infant didn’t jog her memory.

  Johnny held out his arms. “Let me see mei niece.”

  Mary Beth handed her to him, and the three of them walked into the living room. Katherine marveled at how gentle Johnny was with the baby, then he put her in Katherine’s arms.

  “Meet Johanna.”

  “For the second time,” Mary Beth added.

  Katherine sat down with little Johanna, entranced. Johnny was right—she was beautiful.

  “Is Chris outside?” Johnny asked.

  Mary Beth nodded. “He’s plowing the field, preparing to plant the feed corn.”

  “I’ll geh out and see if he needs some help.”

  When he grew silent, Katherine looked up. He and Mary Beth exchanged a private look. She’d seen them do this before. As twins they shared a special bond.

  He turned to Katherine. “I’ll be back in a bit. Then I’ll take you home.”

  When Johnny left, Mary Beth said, “I’m so glad you’re all right. Johnny told me about your illness. He also mentioned your memory problems.” She paused. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “We can geh into the kitchen and talk.”

  Within a few minutes the thick aroma of fresh-brewed coffee surrounded them.

  Katherine shifted Johanna in her arms and waited for Mary Beth to sit down. “What’s gotten into Johnny?” she asked.

  “I was about to ask you the same thing. I don’t mind a visit from mei bruder or mei best friend. I just didn’t expect you both here at the same time.”

  “Me either.”

  “Not that I’m complaining.”

  Katherine hugged Johanna close. The baby closed her eyes. “He’s trying to help me.”

  Mary Beth nodded. “That’s really . . . nice of him.”

  “Which is why I’m confused.”

  Mary Beth nodded. “He’s been doing a lot of confusing things lately. Buying that property without saying anything to the family, for one thing.” She shrugged. “I think mei bruder is finally ready to put down roots.” Then she smiled. “You might have something to do with that.”

  “I doubt it.” She touched Johanna’s head, gently so as not to waken her. “Did I ever mention Isaac to you?”

  “Who?”

  “I guess not.” She filled Mary Beth in on the letters she’d received from Isaac.

  “And you don’t recall him at all?”

  “Nee. He mentioned in his first letter that he was at Mary Yoder’s. I’ll ask the maed about him tomorrow when I geh to work.”

  “You’re ready to geh back?”

  “Ya. I feel a lot better, and Mamm’s been driving me crazy, not wanting me to do too much. I’m getting bored.”

  The coffee finished percolating. Mary Beth stood. “So what do you think about Isaac? From his letters, I mean.”

  “He seems . . . nice.”

  She filled two mugs with the steaming coffee. “Just nice?”

  “I guess. It’s hard to tell much from just two letters.”

  “Have you answered him?” Mary Beth put a mug in front of Katherine.

  “Not yet.”

  “What’s holding you back?”

  With Johanna asleep, Katherine looked at Mary Beth. “I don’t feel like it.”

  “You’re not in the mood to write?”

  “I don’t care to write him. I can’t explain it. Maybe because he’s a stranger to me.”

  “Or maybe you aren’t ready to move on from Johnny?”

  Johanna snuggled against Katherine. “I don’t know that either. He’s changed. He’s attentive. It’s like he—”

  “Cares?”

  She shrugged.

  “If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t be trying to help you get your memory back.”

  “Unless he feels sorry for me.” Or guilty, like her mother thought.

  Mary Beth groaned. “You two drive me ab im kopp, you know that?”

  Katherine frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  “And it’s not my place to explain it to you. Although I wish I could. You two have to work it out.”

  “Work what—”

  “I’m glad you’re feeling well enough to get out.” Mary Beth took a sip of the black coffee. “From what Bekah said, you were really sick.”

  “Ya.” If Mary Beth didn’t want to talk about Johnny, Kathe
rine couldn’t force her to. But now her curiosity was more than a little piqued.

  After spending an hour at his sister’s, Johnny took Katherine home. It was nearly supper time, and she looked tired. He shouldn’t have kept her out so late. He’d hear it from Frau Yoder for sure.

  He glanced at Katherine. Her eyes were drifting shut even as the buggy bounced along the pavement. He was disappointed that she hadn’t remembered anything. And when she’d asked him to tell her, he couldn’t bring himself to.

  She shifted in her seat, opening her eyes and yawning. She looked at him with sleepy eyes. “How long was I asleep?”

  “Not long. A few minutes.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry. Guess I’m more tired than I thought.”

  “Understandable after everything you’ve gone through.” He gripped the reins. Now was as good a time as any to ask her about Isaac. “So. About that guy from Walnut Creek.”

  “I really don’t want to talk about him.”

  “Okay. Won’t bring him up again.” He paused. “Don’t feel you have to stay awake on my account.”

  “We’re almost home.” She looked down at her lap. “I appreciate you trying to help me, Johnny.”

  “I wasn’t much help.”

  “It’s the thought that counts.”

  He glanced at her again. This time she was looking at him, her eyes questioning. “Why are you helping me?” she asked. “I asked you before. I want an answer this time.”

  He saw her driveway a few yards ahead. He didn’t say anything until he pulled into it and stopped next to her house. “Katherine—”

  His mouth suddenly went dry. Would she believe him if he told her? Would she send him away?

  “What, Johnny?” She faced him now. They were close enough that if he reached out he could take her hand. Instead, he held on to the reins.

  “I—I care about you.”

  Her eyes widened. “You what?”

  He swallowed. “I like you, Katie. A lot.” He looked down at the reins in his hand. “That’s why I’m helping you.”

  She twisted in her seat, facing the front, slack-jawed. “Why are you telling me this now?”

  “Because—” He bit his tongue. Every reason flying through his mind sounded lame. He released the reins and held out his hands. “I just am.”

  “I—I can’t do this.” She got out of the buggy.

  He scrambled out of his side and hurried after her. He touched her shoulder, which stopped her in place. She turned around, tears in her eyes.

  “Haven’t I been through enough?”

  “Please. I can explain all of it. You have been through enough. But I want to end that. Right now.”

  “Katherine?”

  Johnny winced as he heard Frau Yoder’s voice. He looked past Katherine’s shoulder and saw her mother descending the stairs of their front porch. She stood next to Katherine and glared at Johnny. “You’ve been gone all daag,” she said, still looking at him.

  “I’m sorry.” She turned to her mother.

  “Supper’s ready.”

  She started to say something, then turned around and walked inside.

  He nodded to Frau Yoder and moved to leave. He’d have to talk to Katherine later.

  “Johnny.”

  He squared his shoulders before turning around. “Ya?”

  She glared at him. “I thought we had an understanding. I asked you to leave mei dochder alone.”

  He approached her. “I don’t blame you for not trusting me. I haven’t been exactly open with Katherine in the past. I never intended—”

  “Your intentions don’t matter, Johnny.” Her tone softened. “It’s too late. You need to let Katherine geh. If you care about her, let her find someone who can make her happy.”

  His throat constricted. “I can make her happy.”

  She paused, tilting her head to the side. Her hardened gaze eased, and for a second he wondered if she might change her mind.

  Then she shook her head and turned away.

  CHAPTER 23

  Cora lay on the narrow single bed in the now-empty storage room, her throbbing ankle propped on several pillows. Sawyer had brought down a few of her things—hairbrush, toothbrush, other essentials—and Anna had made her a tray with tea and several types of cookies on a small plate. She sipped the tea but was too tired to even look at the cookies.

  She had to admit her grandson and his adoptive mother were taking good care of her. The accommodations were rudimentary—there wasn’t even a window in the small room. But she was comfortable, as much as she could be with a sprained ankle and an incurable disease.

  She tapped her fingers on the edge of the bed. She needed to go back to New York. She didn’t feel right staying here. But she couldn’t very well make it to the call box by herself, and Sawyer hadn’t offered to contact her travel agent. If anything, he seemed determined to keep her there.

  Ironic, how the tables had turned. She had done the same thing to him when he visited her in New York.

  A knock sounded on the door, and Anna poked her head in. “You have a visitor.”

  Cora frowned. “I do?”

  “Ya, you do.” Leona hobbled inside, past Anna, not waiting for an invitation from Cora. Rather rude of the woman. Yet deep inside, Cora was glad for the company.

  “I’ll get you a chair,” Anna said. “Sorry there’s not much room.”

  “It’s fine, Anna.” Leona smiled. “Plenty of room for the two of us.”

  Cora crossed her arms as Leona stood by the door. “What are you doing here?”

  “A surprise visit. Ah, Anna, danki.”

  Anna placed the kitchen chair next to Cora’s bed, then left.

  Leona slowly lowered herself into the seat. She looked at Cora’s foot. “Goodness, what did you do?”

  “Slipped. You could have at least let me know in advance you were coming over.”

  Leona waved her off. “You would have refused to see me. This way you have no choice.” She smiled again. “We need to finish our talk.”

  “Finish?”

  “From the other night. You left rather abruptly.”

  “It was late, and I was ready to go home,” Cora said. She uncrossed her arms. She’d never suspected this unassuming woman would be so nervy. Or nosy. Rather reminded her of herself. Cora frowned.

  “See, there’s something on your mind.”

  “My ankle hurts.”

  “Other than that ankle. Talk to me, Cora. You need a friend.”

  Cora looked away. Was this how these people saw her? Lonely? Burdened? She’d spent her life hiding her emotions, steeling her resolve. Yet these people, with their backward ways and unending hospitality, saw right through her.

  Not the impression she wanted to give.

  Cora turned and looked at Leona, who was leaning on her cane. “It won’t be long before I’ll need one of those.”

  “Mei Ephraim made this.” Leona ran her hand across the smooth wood. “Before he passed. He never used one. I didn’t really need it until a few years ago. Still, I used it even before that.” She rested her hand on the top of the handle. “Makes me feel closer to him.”

  “Your husband was a woodworker, then?”

  Leona shook her head. “Nee. He fixed small engines mostly, but every once in a while he liked to work with wood.”

  “Sounds like he was a man with many talents.”

  “And your husband?” Leona pushed her wire-rimmed glasses up on her nose.

  Cora leaned back against the pillows. Her ankle throbbed a little less now. The pain pill she took a short while ago must have kicked in. She tried to think of something she could say about her late husband, something that reflected the same devotion Leona felt for hers.

  “Cora?”

  “Sorry.” She turned and looked at Leona. “Got lost in my thoughts for a minute.”

  “I know what you mean.” Leona looked at her lap. “I miss mei mann every day, and he’s been gone a long time.”

  �
��So has my husband.” But she couldn’t say she’d thought of him every day. Or that their relationship had always been a good one. “I do miss him, though.”

  “It’s a hard thing to lose a loved one. You and I, we’ve lost several. I lost mei sohn and daughter in-law.”

  “And I lost Kerry.” She looked at Leona. “I don’t want to lose Sawyer too.”

  “You won’t.”

  “I lost Kerry because I pushed too hard. I wanted her to be the woman I’d always expected her to be. I wanted her to be like—well, like me. But she wasn’t. Oh, she was headstrong like me. But she didn’t value the same things I did.” Cora blinked back the tears. “In the end, she chose her husband over me.”

  “Perhaps that was God’s plan.”

  Cora looked at her with disbelief. “He’s not much of a God, then, is He?”

  “His ways aren’t our own. We don’t always understand them, but that’s no reason to dismiss or ignore His work in our lives.”

  Cora turned away. She had no idea what Leona was talking about. More Amish religious babble. “I’ve never had much use for God.” She turned back to Leona. “Money has always sufficed.”

  “Has it?”

  Cora felt herself wilting under Leona’s scrutiny. She slowly shook her head. “Not in this case. And not with Kerry.”

  Suddenly she started to tremble as reality sank in. Money wouldn’t force Sawyer to be part of her life. He had made that clear. Money couldn’t break Laura and Sawyer’s bond, and in some ways money and business had driven Kerry away, although she had to take responsibility for that as well.

  Most of all, money wouldn’t cure her Parkinson’s. It didn’t matter if she possessed every cent on earth, there wouldn’t be a cure. Not in her lifetime.

  “Let me pray for you, Cora.” Leona reached out and took Cora’s hand.

  Cora looked down at Leona’s hand. It seemed frail, with its pale, transparent skin and blue veins showing through. Yet she could feel the strength in that grip. Not a physical strength, but something Cora had never felt before.

  “Thank you,” she said to Leona, her voice thick with tears. “No one’s ever offered to pray for me before.”

  “Then it’s time they did.” Leona closed her eyes. Cora waited to hear her say something, but she remained silent. Finally Leona squeezed her hand and released it.