Through the Autumn Air

by Kelly Irvin

  “Or falling when no one is around.” Cyrus and Freeman spent so much time together, they finished each other’s sentences like an old married couple. “That’s a concern, as you can imagine.”

  “I didn’t fall. I tripped over Thomas.” She covered her mouth with her hand, wishing she could take back the words. Better not to argue. She knew that. If Moses were here, he’d cover it for her. Then grin. “I’ll be more careful. I’d like to have a little more time in our home. Moses’ and my home.”

  “You’ve had several years.” Freeman’s features softened. “It’s not an easy thing to get over. I understand that. But Gott’s will is never to be questioned.”

  He still had his wife. Sweet Josephina. He couldn’t understand. Not really. “I know that.”

  He allowed his fingers to intertwine and rest on his belly. “I’m concerned over starting a business with an Englisch woman. Especially after the disaster at Amish Treasures.”

  Cyrus’s chuckle was more of a sigh. “This is what happens when a woman doesn’t have a mann to take care of.”

  That she should still want a life and reason to arise each morning seemed to surprise and disconcert them. “Books are good.”

  “There are plenty at Dottie’s library, and they’re free.” Cyrus’s tone spoke of a certainty that money could be spent in better ways. “I’m sure she can find other friends willing to go in with her.”

  Englisch friends. He didn’t say it, but that’s what he meant.

  “Leo and Jennie could use some help at the Combination Store. I’ve heard they invited you to go in with them. Consider it.” Freeman stood as if to punctuate the statement. Cyrus and Solomon rose together. Thomas followed suit. “Strongly. They are working to make a go of it. This is a gut thing, especially for Leo. You are better with people. They need you.”

  He said “better with people” as if it weren’t the best quality to have. Mingling with the world instead of keeping to herself. Bookstores with Englisch women. Mary Katherine remained in her chair. Disappointment tangled with relief. They hadn’t made her move. Not yet. But no bookstore. As usual she couldn’t leave well enough alone. “Ezekiel also asked me to cook at the restaurant.”

  Freeman put both hands on the porch railing and leaned over it, his head craned as if he were searching the dusk. “Ezekiel needed a cook. Now he has one. This Burke fellow.”

  “He needs more than one.”

  Freeman straightened and faced her. “We’ll talk with Ezekiel tomorrow after church. We need to know more about this man.”

  Working at the Combination Store would help her earn the money to buy into the bookstore. With time. “I’d like to work there to earn back the money I lost when Amish Treasures burned down.”

  He nodded at Cyrus and Thomas. “It’s late. Church tomorrow.”

  A self-satisfied grin on his face, Thomas hopped from his seat and bounded down the steps. “We can trade buggies at church.”

  Mary Katherine knew it was a woman’s lot to have men in charge. It had never seemed onerous—until now.

  EIGHT

  The bolt made a beautiful clicking sound when it slid into the lock. It signaled the end of another day at the Purple Martin Café. Rubbing his neck with one hand, Ezekiel flipped the sign that hung on the door to CLOSED with the other. His back hurt and his legs ached. His head throbbed, but he couldn’t complain. Customers had flowed through the restaurant in a steady stream. His costs would be covered and payroll secured. In the restaurant business, that was success. That was more important than the toll it took on his body to plow through these long days on his feet. Mary Katherine’s stray man could cook. Who knew where Burke McMillan came from or how he arrived in Jamesport, but he had been a blessing this Saturday night.

  Unfortunately, Mary Katherine had left the café with Thomas and hadn’t returned. That left Ezekiel with no opportunity to serve her a piece of banana cream pie, her favorite, according to her daughter Beulah, who nattered about everything under the sun when she stopped in for lunch on her grocery-shopping days. According to Beulah, Mary Katherine had a sweet tooth to match his. She’d looked nervous as a cat in a rainstorm as she walked away with Thomas.

  At this point it was hard to say if she would be back on Monday. Whether Thomas objected more to his mother working in the restaurant or to her gallivanting around the countryside with a strange man was also open to question. In all fairness, if she were his mother, Ezekiel would object to the strange man in her house too.

  He would try to ferret out the answers after church in the morning. He turned to survey the dining area. Miriam and Anna were in back, emptying the high-powered commercial dishwashers. Nicole trudged from table to table, replacing dirty tablecloths with clean ones. She picked up a pile of linens that reached above eye level and stumbled toward the last row of tables.

  “Careful there. Let me help you.”

  Nicole pushed down the load with one hand so he could see both of her pale-gray eyes. “That’s okay. I’ve got it.”

  “You must be raring to get out of here.” Ezekiel had tried a few times to carry on a conversation with his newest waitress, but she didn’t have much to say. He’d hired her on Anna’s recommendation. He wasn’t sure how Freeman’s granddaughter knew her, but they seemed to get along well. “It’s Saturday night. Your friends are probably waiting.”

  “Not really.” She stopped at the last table and dumped her load in a chair while she grabbed the dirty tablecloth. “I’m just going home. Daddy will be watching game videos and Mom will be reading one of her Amish romances.”

  “She reads Amish romances?”

  “I know, right?” Nicole added clean tablecloths to the last two tables with admirable efficiency. For a teenager, she didn’t seem to mind manual labor. She picked up her load again. “She lives in the middle of a bunch of Amish people, and she still wants to read fake stories about them.”

  “No harm in it, I guess.”

  She snorted and headed toward the kitchen doors and the back room that held a commercial-size washer and dryer. “Anyway, I can stay until the tablecloths are dry and fold them, if you want.”

  “No, no need. I don’t want you staying out that late. Do you have a ride home?”

  “It’s only eight blocks.”

  “Still.”

  “I can give you a ride.” Tony Perez bounded across the room with all the energy and enthusiasm of an overgrown puppy. He’d removed his apron to reveal a black T-shirt that featured a band Ezekiel didn’t recognize. His jeans had holes in both knees, but his black Nikes looked new. “My car is running again. At least it was when I drove it over here.”

  The pause that followed lasted long enough to be awkward. Ezekiel cleared his throat. Tony’s expectant look faded. “Or whatever. A girl like you probably has plans.”

  Her face scarlet, Nicole made a beeline between them. She glanced at Tony, then away. “My friend Kaitlyn and her boyfriend are picking me up.”

  “Oh, yeah, that’s good. Whatever.”

  “Maybe next time.” Nicole’s words came out in a stutter. “You know, next week or something.”

  “Oh, yeah, next time. For sure.” Grinning, Tony saluted Ezekiel. “I’m done, Mr. E. I’m out of here.”

  “Careful out there.”

  “Always.”

  The door closed harder than necessary. The bell tinkled until the desire to silence it grew fierce.

  Andrew marched out of the men’s restroom, bucket in one hand, mop in the other. He had stopped by, as he did most nights, to help clean the tables, mop the floors, and restock the salt and pepper shakers, along with other condiments. He looked up and waved. He’d been married almost a year, but that didn’t stop him from helping out. Summoning a smile, Ezekiel waved back. Andrew also would take out the trash. He was a good man and a good son. “I’ll be back to help in a minute.”

  “We’ve got it.” Andrew settled the mop on the floor next to the closest table. “You deal with the food and the receip
ts. You don’t want me doing either.”

  True. His sons had no interest or aptitude for the restaurant business. Only a desire to please Ezekiel, something that always touched his heart, even if he didn’t have the words to tell them that. He headed for the kitchen.

  “Daed, wait.”

  He turned to find Andrew leaning on the mop, his expression hesitant. “Got a minute?”

  “Sure, always.” Ezekiel moved toward the counter. “The kaffi is probably still warm, if you have a hankering—”

  “Nee, I just wanted to talk to you.” He twirled the mop around with one hand. Then he looked back as if to see if Nicole was within earshot. “About a couple of things.”

  “I still have the paperwork to do. We’re shorthanded—”

  “I know. Just for a minute.” Andrew plopped down on a stool and leaned the broom against the counter. “John said you offered Mary Kay a job.”

  “She couldn’t stay tonight, so this man Burke McMillan did a trial run.”

  “And Mary Kay?”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  Andrew’s face turned beet red. His gaze shifted to the ceiling.

  “Do you want that kaffi?” Taking pity on him, Ezekiel turned and strode to the line of coffeepots and tea pitchers situated on tables along the wall behind the counter. “Is black okay?”

  “Black is fine.”

  When Ezekiel turned around with two mugs of lukewarm coffee, Andrew took a mug and cupped it in his hands as if to warm them. He didn’t meet Ezekiel’s gaze.

  “What’s on your mind, Suh?”

  “We were just talking about how you never remarried.”

  “It’s hard for an old dog to learn new tricks.”

  “It’s not gut for you to be alone.”

  “I’m fine.”

  Andrew sipped the coffee, swallowed, and set the mug down. “Just because you’re old doesn’t mean you can’t learn new tricks. It’s harder, but it can be done.”

  “Whatever you’re trying to say, spit it out. I’m growing roots standing here.”

  “Mary Kay.”

  He got that part. “Jah?”

  “Are you . . . I mean . . . am I . . . I don’t want to . . .” He sputtered to a stop, his expression so grim a person might think he had a terminal disease. “She fell on you at the wedding. You ate in the kitchen. We thought maybe . . . there was an interest.”

  “I had cake all over my clothes.” At the time it had made perfect sense. It still did. He paused, the cup halfway to his lips. The memory of Mary Katherine’s weight pressed against him again for a split second. He’d forgotten how it felt to be that close to a woman. Soft. She felt soft. And she smelled sweet. Like cake, naturally. She smelled good.

  “Mudder has been gone a long time.” Andrew studied the dregs in his mug, his expression somewhere between morose and downright sad. “I reckon she wouldn’t mind if you didn’t spend your last years alone.”

  Ezekiel forced himself back to the present. “I’m not dying yet. I’m not that old.”

  “You don’t look so gut. You’ve lost weight.”

  “I could stand to lose a few more pounds. I’ve gone soft through the middle eating my own cooking.”

  “Daed!”

  “Your mudder was it for me.” The words didn’t do justice to the void where Ezekiel’s heart had once been, but he had no flowery sentences to describe his love for his wife. Besides, it was private—not even his sons had a right to those feelings. “I’m gut on my own. You and your bruder and your schweschders have gut fraas and manns. You have your kinner. That makes me happy.”

  “We don’t want you to be alone.” Andrew slid the mug toward Ezekiel. “Other widows and widowers have married again. They found someone new.”

  “It’s not that easy. At least it isn’t for me.” Ezekiel stared into his mug. If he drank coffee now, he’d be up all night. He pushed it away. “Besides, I’m not alone. I have the bunch of you and your kinner, plus a lot of customers.”

  Love between a man and a woman was a special creature. That it could happen more than once in a lifetime seemed incredible. That it happened once was hard enough to believe. “Are you taking out the trash or what?”

  Andrew ducked his head. “I don’t like sticking my nose in your business—”

  “Then don’t. Cleaning up around here is all the help I need from you.”

  Andrew slipped from the stool and grabbed the broom. “Sorry.”

  He was halfway across the room before Ezekiel managed to clear the lump in his throat enough to speak. “Suh.”

  Andrew looked back. Ezekiel summoned a smile. “No need to be sorry. I lieb you too.”

  It shouldn’t be that hard for a man to express his love for his children. Lucy had taught him that. Most Plain folks didn’t hold much store in that sort of thing, but Lucy did.

  Andrew smiled and nodded. “I’ll take out the trash after I finish mopping the floors.”

  Ezekiel heaved a sigh of relief. He didn’t like dredging up this stuff. What possessed his children to do it for him? Better to let it lie. A man couldn’t expect lightning to strike in the same place twice. He’d seen it happen with others, but maybe they settled for something less, something better than being alone. He had no intention of settling. God had taken his wife. He got the message loud and clear. His was not to be the life of those around him. He was a widower.

  The word cut his throat like slivers of glass when he swallowed.

  He didn’t understand it. God’s plan. He shouldn’t expect to understand it. All these years and he still wanted an answer. Why, Gott?

  He let his gaze follow his son and the girls as they worked, but his mind captured Andrew’s words and spun a story against his will, no matter how entrenched in widowerhood he intended to be. The images were vibrant, clear as the sky on a spring morning, and inescapable. Instead of leaving at the end of the day, Mary Katherine came home with him. Their voices and their laughter echoed in the evening air as they shared the buggy ride back to their home. They shared their impressions of the day and the customers who ate at their tables. She chuckled at his grumpiness. He pretended to be hurt. She coaxed him from his mood. At home she lit the lamp and plopped into the rocking chair to do her darning for a half hour before bed. He made a produce list and soaked his feet in Epsom salts. She smiled at him from her seat. He smiled back through tired, bleary eyes. She looked pretty.

  Lucy had rocked all four of their children in that rocking chair. The story in Ezekiel’s head screeched to a halt. An uncomfortable, sick feeling rocked his stomach. The kind of guilty feeling a child experienced when he stole a piece of candy at the grocery store and got away with it. The candy tasted vile and a dry throat made it impossible to swallow. “Nee,” he whispered to himself. He needed to keep his mind on the restaurant and not fanciful dreams. “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”

  Gritting his teeth, Ezekiel shoved through the kitchen doors. Burke stood at the grill, a drumstick midway to his mouth. His cheeks bulged and his lips shone with grease. “Sorry.” The food in his mouth mangled the word. He lowered the drumstick. “Hungry.”

  “You never took a break.” Regret blossomed in Ezekiel. “You never ate, did you?”

  Burke chewed and swallowed. He wiped his fingers and face with his apron. “I didn’t know if we were allowed to eat. Everyone was busy, and no one said anything.”

  The man’s arms were bony, his chin sharp, cheeks sunken. Ezekiel grabbed a pan that still held a few meager slices of meatloaf surrounded by congealed grease. He held it out. “That’s my fault. Eat. Warm it up first. Employees are allowed one free meal per shift.”

  “I’m full. Thank you.”

  Ezekiel doubted that, but he didn’t press. He would send a bag home with the man.

  “If you plan to work here, you’ll need to fill out paperwork. We’ll have to give the government its due. I’m careful to follow all the rules.” He let his gaze sweep the kitchen. Burke had made great
headway in cleaning up. The only tasks Ezekiel had left were tallying the day’s receipts and making a list of produce and meat that needed to be purchased Monday morning. “I have everything in the office. We haven’t even talked about your salary.”

  “We can do it Monday if you’re bushed.” Burke covered the meatloaf with foil and slid the pan in the refrigerator. His movements were quick and efficient, despite the long hours he’d worked. “I’m not done cleaning.”

  “I have to take care of receipts in the office anyway. You finish here, and I’ll be back.”

  He plowed through the receipts and stowed the money in the safe as usual. Then made a list for the next day. He’d bought too much hamburger and not enough chicken the previous trip to the store. Even after all these years, predicting the quantity was impossible. Fortunately, it froze, unlike the limp lettuce and overripe tomatoes that had to be tossed. Forty-five minutes later he strolled back through the restaurant, employee application and the other routine paperwork in hand. The lights were off. Andrew and the others had finished their work and left.

  The quiet soothed him. The paperwork did not. It was his least favorite part of being an employer, but he kept up with it—that and the finicky Health Department rules. He didn’t want those spot inspections to trip him up. Which was why the state of the kitchen perked him up. The sinks, the stoves, the grill, the floor—everything shone from the obvious application of elbow grease.

  Burke rinsed out a washrag and laid it flat on the edge of the huge stainless-steel sinks before he turned to face Ezekiel. “I think that’s it.”

  “Good job. Everything looks real nice. Here’s the application. I’ll need a photocopy of your driver’s license and your social security card after you get it filled out. They have a machine over at the post office. I think it’s fifteen cents a copy. You can bring them later, when you get a chance. Just fill out the application.”

  Burke took off his apron and stuck it in the overflowing basket. He didn’t reach for the papers. “I should get out of your way.”