“There’s not much to tell,” he finally said. “Jenna walked by my side and we looked at the quilts.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“Did you enjoy being with her?”
“I did. Well, somewhat.”
“What happened?” She thought for a moment. “You didn’t start talking about cows and horses and goats did you?”
A muscle in his cheek jumped. “What if I did?”
“No one wants to hear about the antics of barnyard animals.”
“You do.”
“Well, I’m different.”
“To answer your question, no. I most certainly did not start telling Jenna about Bridgett. But I’m sure if I had, she would have been most entertained. Bridgett is a most entertaining cow.”
“She’s still a cow, Graham.” Growing more curious, she said softly, “What happened?”
“Nothing. We talked. She smiled. I enjoy being around her. We made plans for me to visit her at her home one evening next week.”
“But?”
“You know me too well, don’t you?” he said dryly.
“You could say that.” Some would say she knew him best of all.
With enough drama to appear on the stage, he sighed. “All right, Miss Nosypants, here’s the problem. She bored me. Though I did talk to her about the chickens”—he held up a hand to stop her teasing—“and about my intention to apply for work at the garage-door factory this fall, she wasn’t too interested in either subject.”
“What did she want to talk about?”
He shrugged. “Mattie, I have no idea. Most of the time, we just looked at the art and commented on the weather. It was a long evening.”
Delight raced through her. With effort, she tried to tamp it down. “Truly?”
“You sound happy about it.”
“I’m not happy,” she said as all too soon Charlie pulled up to the circular drive in front of the medical center.
“You sound happy,” Graham countered as they got out, waved goodbye to Charlie, and stepped into the air-conditioned lobby of the medical center.
As the cold air fanned her cheeks, all their jokes slipped away and the focus of their day fell on her shoulders.
The weight of it felt overwhelming. Mattie steeled her spine. “It’s, uh, this way.”
“Hey,” Graham said, “are you all right? Do you want to wait a moment before we go in?”
“Of course not. Besides, more often than not I have to wait for a long time.”
Looking her over, his expression held none of the amusement that had made the ride seem so short. “Is there a purpose for this visit? You never said.”
“Yes. It’s . . . the purpose is to give me the results of the latest biopsy.”
“You didn’t tell me you had another one.”
“I know.”
His touch stopped her. “Mattie, what happens if it’s bad news?”
“If it’s cancer?” At his nod, she flinched. “I don’t know.”
“All right, then. Let’s go hear the news.”
Suddenly, she was afraid. “Graham, I fear I must warn you—at these appointments . . . I’m not always at my best.”
As he opened the doctor’s door, his expression changed, turning as amused as ever. “Not to worry, Mattie. I’m used to that.”
Dorothy knocked after 9:00 that evening. The moment Ella opened the door, Dorothy marched in, purpose emanating with every step.
For a moment, Ella considered asking her to leave. The feelings of warmth and friendship she’d once felt for Dorothy were fading away. Now, it seemed, there was only a lack of trust.
Well, she felt a lack of trust.
“What is it that you want, Dorothy?”
“That’s all you have to say?”
“It’s not. But it might be all that is suitable to talk about this evening.”
Without being asked, Dorothy sat. Temper simmering, Ella watched her friend’s face as she visibly attempted to get the best of the situation.
As the seconds passed, Ella realized her patience had passed as well. “Dorothy, why are you here?”
“I wanted to talk to you.”
“I’m listening. But only for another two minutes. Then it will be time for you to go.”
“All right.” She sighed. “Ella, why have you left me?”
“You need to explain yourself.”
“When I offered you this place to stay and put in my recommendation for the job, you promised you were grateful.”
“I am.”
“But you haven’t shown it. Why, you haven’t acted appreciative at all! Instead of spending time with me—like you promised—you’ve been darting off with other people.”
“Dorothy, we’ve already talked about this. I am paying you rent. I am working at the library. While it is true you did much for me, it is also true that I don’t owe you anything.”
Her face grew darker. “You sent the bishop to talk to me.”
“I spoke to him about your actions. He was the one who wanted to speak with you.”
“Because you made up lies about me.”
“You have been entering my home uninvited and went through my trash. That dinner was rotten, Dorothy.”
“If you had been with me when I cooked it, you would have liked it.”
“But what you are doing makes no sense! Why in the world would you do such a thing? You had to know actions like that would only make me want to pull further away from you.”
“Ella,” she said softly. “You don’t understand. All my life, I’ve lived on the outside. My family left me. Then my boyfriend rejected me. Since then, I’ve been only by myself. And then we became friends.”
Her voice turned softer, sweeter as she looked beyond Ella to a place where her memories laid. “Do you remember the first time we met? You had just left the optical shop and were fingering your new eyeglasses. I told you they looked nice. And you, Ella, said thank you, and that no one had ever complimented you on your glasses before.”
That had been four years ago. Back before her parents had passed away and all Ella could think about was herself. She’d been seventeen and aching to be smaller framed and smaller in size.
It had been a Monday, she knew, because she’d also still been smarting from Corrine’s news. She and Peter had announced their engagement at church the day before.
And instead of feeling happy for her best friend, she’d been overcome with jealousy.
She’d spent the entire time at the singing eyeing Loyal Weaver and the way he’d had smiles for all the girls . . . except for her.
Ella realized now that the reason he hadn’t smiled at her had been because she hadn’t smiled at anyone that evening. She’d been so shy, so worried about saying the wrong things, that she’d kept to herself. And so, of course, everyone had kept their distance.
Yes, back then, she’d had a child’s view of the world—a selfish way of thinking, filtering everything done and said around her through an insecure haze. And Dorothy, being ten years older, had fed her insecurities and doubts.
Now Ella was starting to realize that Dorothy had wanted her to also be alone. That far from giving, she’d been taking from Ella—all in the hopes that Ella would fulfill her own selfish desires.
“I remember that day, well,” she murmured. “I was so grateful for your compliment about my new frames.” Oh, how self-centered and insecure she’d been! Now her vanity shamed her.
Dorothy stood up. “Then you must also remember how happy you were to have me. You needed me. You needed a friend.”
She had appreciated Dorothy’s friendship, but their relationship wasn’t near as one-sided as Dorothy was painting it. “You needed a friend, too.”
“We still need each other. I’m sure of it. El
la, you might think that you have a lot in common with your other friends, but you don’t. People like Corrine won’t stick around.”
“Of course she will. Corrine and I have been friends for years.”
“But she’s married. You likely never will be.”
The harsh statement stung. And now that she had her job and was learning to reach out to other people more, Ella felt sure, with God’s help, she would meet her perfect man. “Of course I will, Dorothy.”
“No one is going to want you, Ella.” Looking her over pityingly, Dorothy said, “Surely you don’t think someone like Loyal Weaver is going to court you. Do you? ”
Right then and there, old worries and doubts rushed forward, nearly drowning her new attitude.
And then, to her amazement, Ella thought of Katie. And that’s when she realized—remembered—that merely being “good enough” for someone wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted to be as strong and willful as that little girl. She wanted to learn to push in order to get her way.
“Whether Loyal becomes my beau or not is none of your concern.”
“It is. I had plans for us. You were supposed to always be there for me. You are going to be just like me one day.”
“No, I’m not. What did the bishop say?”
She turned away. “About what you might expect. He reminded me of my position in our community. He talked about friendship and prayer.” Looking back at Ella, pure scorn and derision mottled her cheeks. “But he knows nothing.”
“Dorothy, you should listen to him.”
“I know Joseph. I’ve known him for years. And I remember when he wasn’t the bishop, but merely a young man doing foolish things.” She lifted her chin. “He once got caught having a buggy race late at night. I reminded him of that.”
“And what did he do?”
“Oh, he pretended it was nonsense, and a long time ago. But I reminded him that our past never leaves us. We are who we are. I am always going to be too outspoken and smart for most of the people in our community.” She lowered her voice. “And you, Ella, are always going to be too tall and plain for the likes of the man you want.”
Ella shook her head. “Nee.”
Dorothy stepped forward, her expression earnest. “Don’t you understand, Ella? You can rush forward and make a fool of yourself, but you can never ignore the past. It’s always there, like a light on the back of a buggy. It’s always there, shining like a remembrance. Making sure you will never forget.”
Walking to the door, Ella opened it. “It’s time you left.”
“I’ll leave, but promise me that you’ll take heed to my warnings?”
“I cannot do that.”
Dorothy turned to face her. “Why won’t you listen to me?”
Gripping the edge of the door, Ella said, “For the first time, I think I’m hearing everything you have to say, loud and clear. This is my two week notice. I’ll be leaving here soon.”
“You can’t.”
Dorothy spoke with such certainty, it almost made Ella smile. What did she think Ella was going to do? Listen to her and meekly follow directions?
“Of course I will.”
“We have a contract.”
“No, we don’t. And even if we did, you would have to agree that you have already broken our agreement when you violated my privacy.” As Dorothy continued to stare at her in shock, Ella said, “It must be obvious to you now. You can’t shape me into the person you’d hoped I would be.”
“I never wanted to mold you. I only wanted you to be the person you pretended to be. The person you said you were . . . which you are not.”
“I am sorry, but I’m afraid that’s not going to happen.”
“You’ll regret this.”
“Perhaps. But it is time you left.”
“I want you out before two weeks’ time. I want you out of here, out of my home, as soon as possible.”
“I’ll do my best to leave quickly.”
“It won’t be soon enough.” One last, malevolent look punctuated her face before she turned, opened the door with a jerk, and left.
But instead of feeling relief that Dorothy was gone, Ella now felt even more scared. She was completely alone, and because of that, more vulnerable than ever.
Ella was starting to realize that Dorothy was even more dangerous when she couldn’t be seen than when she was in plain sight.
An edgy sense of foreboding flowed through Ella. And as she turned the deadbolt on the front door, she considered propping a chair against it, too.
Fear. She now feared Dorothy. She feared Dorothy more than she feared for an uncertain future.
Chapter 23
“Waiting for Ella again, are you?” John asked from the other side of the counter.
Loyal felt his cheeks heat. “I guess it’s pretty obvious?”
“Only to a man who’s done some waiting a time or two for a woman.” With a wink he added, “Of course, the way you’re sitting in front of the picture window like a puppy in a pet store gave me a hint as well.”
With effort, Loyal turned away from his spot, realizing his uncle was exactly right. He had been sitting somewhat like an expectant pup, hoping for a smile from someone special.
Around the small dining area, all the men who’d overheard were grinning, too.
“Don’t fret, Loyal,” Bishop Thomas said with a smirk. “We’ve all done it. Sooner or later each man finds he can’t take his eyes off a woman . . .”
“And it’s up to the rest of us to make note of it and tease him,” Henry said.
“I know I have,” John murmured.
Uncle John was truly a surprise, Loyal reflected. Once Amish, now English, he’d had a successful business in Indiana, then packed everything up and moved out to Jacob’s Crossing just a few months ago.
Now, here he was, owning his own donut shop in the middle of Amish country. Being a part of the network of friends and acquaintances but also not.
And now here Loyal was learning that his uncle had waited on a woman before. “Are you talking about Angela?”
“I am not. I have dated some since she divorced me, you know.”
It felt strange to hear him talk about divorce so easily. Even the thought of divorce made Loyal uneasy. “I’m glad you haven’t been alone.” Then, all the sudden, he remembered seeing his uncle and an unfamiliar woman walking together. “Are you seeing anyone now?”
“No.”
“Really?”
His uncle gazed through the thick glass window. “Well, I suppose I am. Kind of. ” He shrugged, looking completely perplexed. “Anyway, my point is that I know that look of yours. We all do. And you, my nephew, are looking head over heels.”
Though it was on the tip of his tongue to deny it, he sighed. “I guess I have been waiting for Ella. She’s become a gut friend.”
“From what your mother has told me, it sounds like Ella could use some good friends right now.”
“Uncle John, do you think it would have been possible for you to have known that things weren’t going to work out between you and Angela?”
John’s expression became shuttered.
Loyal felt horrible. He shouldn’t have brought up the past like that. They all knew John’s failed marriage was a source of discomfort for him. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have pried.”
“You didn’t,” John said. “I was just wondering if I could have known what the future had in store for me.”
Even the bishop was leaning forward, all ears. “And?”
“And, the answer is, I’m not sure.” Picking up a rag, John began to wipe down the already clean countertop. “Angela and I should never have married in the first place. We were too different. It was soon very obvious that I was never going to be who she wanted.” Looking from the bishop to Loyal, he said, “You have to remember, when I first me
t Angela, I was young. Only eighteen.”
“You’d just left us,” the bishop said.
“I had. It was a really hard time for me,” John admitted. “I had a chip on my shoulder, and was so angry.”
Loyal hadn’t heard this story before. “Angry at what?”
“Angry at the Englischers, for not giving me a welcome party I guess,” he said dryly.
“What are you talking about?”
“Leaving the faith had been such a big step for me, I thought everyone would give me slack. But they didn’t. All the men my age just made fun of me when I didn’t fit in.” He rolled his eyes. “And believe me, I stuck out in a lot of ways. I did some really foolish things.” He took a deep breath, then averted his eyes. “I was also very angry at myself. Because I thought I’d made a mistake, but I didn’t know how to fix it.”
“You should have come back to us,” the bishop said.
“Perhaps . . . but even if I had wanted to, my pride wouldn’t let me. I wanted to be independent.” Removing a half-filled coffeepot, he checked the time, poured out what was in the carafe, and started making a fresh pot. “Anyway, it was right then and there that I first met Angela. She was my boss’s daughter, and pretty much the first person who didn’t act like I was a source of amusement.”
“So, she wasn’t a complete mistake. She was the right person for you at that time,” Loyal said.
“In a way, I suppose she was,” John said as he filled a paper liner with coffee grounds. “She made me happy, and I loved that. And she was beautiful—and I was young enough to like that very much, too. But then, well, she realized that I could never be who she wanted; and when I found out she was seeing another man, I realized I could never stay married to a woman who cheated on me.”
“What happened to her? Do you know?”
Uncle John nodded. “I came across her name on the computer when I was traveling here. She’s married and has a family. So I guess she finally did find what she was looking for. ”
“Well, I for one, am glad you’re back here,” Bishop Thomas said.
“I am, too.” He cleared his throat. “Well, this is what I get for asking you a personal question, isn’t it, Loyal? I get nosy, and end up telling you about myself.”
The Protector Page 15
