by Kelly Irvin
Sarah’s canoe got stuck in the creek on a family canoe trip. She stepped out and ended up in mud so deep she couldn’t get out. She pulled one foot out, and the other went in deeper.
“I had her mann’s permission.” Mary Katherine grinned at the memory. “He told me the whole story. He was still laughing. It struck her so funny she couldn’t get out for laughing so much. Jason and her suhs had to pull her out.”
“So your article said.” He studied something beyond her shoulder. “I wanted to tell you Burke worked out really well last night. He’s a gut cook. Hard worker.”
“I thought he might be.”
“Based on how he broke into your house?”
“He told you?”
“He also said he doesn’t make a habit of it.”
“But you’re wondering if a burglar might also be a liar.” He shouldn’t judge a man by one error. Especially a hungry man who knew no one. “I agree he made a mistake—a big mistake—but I forgive him. As we’re called to do.”
“Forgiveness is one thing. Inviting the wolf into the herd of sheep is another.”
“I don’t think he’s your average burglar.” Sweat trickled down her forehead. The fall breeze didn’t help one iota. “He didn’t steal anything. He has a good vocabulary.”
“That makes perfect sense.”
Now he was making fun of her. “You want to turn away a man who has no place to go? Who you just said was a good cook? You need a cook, and sometimes beggars can’t be choosers—”
“Whoa, whoa!” He put up both hands. “I agree. That’s why I’m hiring him. That’s why I took him home with me last night. That’s why he’s still asleep in the back bedroom—leastways he was when I left for church.”
“Oh. Oh.” Mary Katherine fluttered her fingers and landed them on her kapp string.
A cluster of boys, including three of her grands, rushed past them, already tossing a weathered football back and forth. Mary Katherine instinctively ducked. Little Thaddeus waved and ran on. The extra time didn’t help her draw any conclusions. “Well, why didn’t you say so?”
“You didn’t give me a chance.” His smile was rueful. “You tend to pop off before you have the whole story, just like you did in school.”
“I did not.” She stopped. She couldn’t remember that far back, but Ezekiel could? “You’re making that up.”
“You think you’ll take me up on my offer?”
“It’s still open? You’re hiring Burke.”
“For the evening shift. I’m still short on the day shift. It seems like I’m always short in some position. I can never keep a full staff.”
“Mary Kay.”
Freeman’s bass carried over the chatter of the small groups gathered across Cyrus’s front yard. Cyrus followed, Solomon behind him. Not again. Their serious expressions said their talk the previous evening was about to have a part two.
Several folks glanced their way, Thomas among them. He broke away from his conversation with Aidan Graber and started their direction.
Her son the busybody. “Wonder where he got that?” Moses’ snort resounded in Mary Katherine’s ears. “I have to go.”
“I think I may be part of this conversation.”
“Why?”
“Just a feeling.”
“You, too, Ezekiel.” Freeman pointed toward the barn. “Let’s have a talk.”
Ezekiel was way too smart for his britches.
From Mary Katherine’s smile to Freeman’s frown, Ezekiel had whiplash. Getting his mind off that smile and onto the bishop’s concerns would be a challenge. Better to keep his gaze on his feet so he didn’t stumble in front of Mary Katherine, her oldest son, and the church elders.
Cyrus shut the doors behind them, blocking out the raucous laughter of the younger ones and the rumble of conversation among the older ones. Freeman settled onto the front bench. Thomas took a spot across from him. Mary Katherine looked flummoxed for a moment. During church, the women sat on one side, the men on the other. Ezekiel nodded toward a spot next to Thomas. She shrugged, shot him a grateful smile, and sat. He chose to stand. Three hours of sitting on a hard bench took its toll on his sciatica.
“We’ll make this quick. Everyone is hungry.” Freeman patted his ever-expanding paunch. “Not that I couldn’t live off the fat of the land for a while.”
Cyrus and Solomon chuckled. Mary Katherine stared at her hands.
Freeman’s gaze landed on Ezekiel. “You hired this Burke McMillan?”
It sounded more like an accusation than a question. “I’m trying. He hasn’t filled out the paperwork yet. I’m hoping he will.”
Freeman’s eyebrows arched.
“There are still some matters to be resolved.”
“Such as?”
Ezekiel had hoped to avoid diving into the details. No matter. “He doesn’t seem to have a home address.”
“Where is he staying?”
“With me.” His gaze traveled to Mary Katherine, despite his best intentions not to look at her. “For now.”
Mary Katherine smiled. “That’s—”
“What do you know about this man?” Thomas interrupted.
“He has no family. He’s a widower.” Who’d suffered the loss of a child. Children were gifts from God and He often took them home for reasons parents couldn’t fathom. Just as He took wives and husbands when He deemed it their time. That didn’t make it any easier for the poor souls who lived it. Certainly not the trite words of comfort that seemed to come so easily to a person’s lips. “He knows his way around a kitchen. He’s a decent cook.”
“So you don’t know any more than Mudder did when she let a would-be burglar sleep in her barn?”
“Enough that I let him sleep in my house.” Ezekiel drew on the reserve of patience he had cultivated during many years of being the only parent to four children. “I’m still here, so I reckon he’s not to be feared.”
“We want to discuss whether you still need Mary Kay at the restaurant.” Cyrus intervened. “She’s needed at the Combination Store. They’re working hard to get a foothold with the tourists, while the restaurant is well established. We also want to talk about whether we can trust this stranger in our midst.”
“I can see the reason in that.” Ezekiel could also see the determined set of Mary Katherine’s mouth and the way the lines deepened around her eyes. She reminded him of a beautiful purple martin he’d discovered one day, its leg caught in a fence’s barbed wire. The bird must’ve known it did no good to struggle, but it couldn’t help itself. Ezekiel was positive he received a look of thanks before the purple martin fluttered away in a rush of ecstatic winged flight after he freed it. “One cook can’t cover all the day shifts. She could be a great help.”
“I don’t want Mudder working with this McMillan.” Thomas rose and began to pace. “He was watching her house.”
Mary Katherine’s hand went to her mouth, then dropped. “Not just my house. He was observing the Plain ways. He’s a student of life. He wanted a sandwich.” Her lips pressed together. She heaved a breath. “He was polite. He washed his plate when he was done.”
Ezekiel kept his smile to himself. She truly couldn’t contain herself.
“He preyed on an elderly woman living alone.” Neither could Thomas. He was digging himself a hole with his mother and didn’t seem to realize it. “He duped you into helping him.”
“I’m not elderly. Or a fool.” She rose and stepped into her son’s path. “I managed to raise you, didn’t I? Although I sometimes wonder if I covered the respect for parents mentioned in Scripture often enough.”
“I lost my daed early.” Thomas ducked his head. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I’d rather not lose my mudder too.”
The heart of the matter. Not an easy thing for a man to admit in front of others. He was the eldest son, and he spoke for the family in his father’s absence. His wishes carried a great deal of weight. Mary Kay wouldn’t be happy about it, but Thomas was right.
; “Gott’s will be done.” Solomon offered this advice. Good advice, to be sure. “We’re only passing through this world.”
Wise words that didn’t help as much as they should.
“If it is of such concern for Thomas, then I think it’s best that Mary Kay work with Leo and Jennie.” Ezekiel peeked at Mary Katherine. Her lips pressed together. She probably feared her response would leap out and smack him in the head. It couldn’t be allowed to matter. “She has a lot to offer them with her experience at Amish Treasures. I’ll find my cook elsewhere.”
Mary Katherine glowered at him. He responded with his best apologetic smile. He understood too well Thomas’s fear of losing another loved one. He’d spent years fussing over his kinner, fearing Gott would decide their days were finished as well.
“That sounds like a plan.” Freeman glanced from Thomas to Mary Katherine, his eyes bright behind his glasses. “Can the two of you agree to such a plan?”
“It’s a gut plan. As far as this man Burke goes, I still think it’s best not to have a stranger in our midst.” Thomas had inherited a fair share of his mother’s stubbornness. “Our kinner eat at that restaurant.”
“I’m inviting him up to the house for supper tonight with all my grands.” A wave of dizziness swept over Ezekiel. The muted light of the barn darkened for a few sickening seconds. He took a breath, then another. The swaying stopped. “Leah said something about hamburger macaroni and cheese casserole.”
“Are you feeling all right?” Cyrus cocked his head, his expression quizzical. “You look as white as a sheet.”
Ezekiel teetered to a bench and sat. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“I think I forgot to eat breakfast.” Unless coffee and a hard, leftover chocolate chip cookie counted. Burke had still been asleep when Ezekiel awoke, and he saw no reason to dirty dishes for one. He planted both hands on his knees and squeezed. Breathe. The air cleared, but he felt cold. “I’m just hungry.”
“I ate a big breakfast and I’m still famished.” Freeman nodded at Cyrus, who headed to the doors. “Having a fraa does make a big difference, though.”
That statement tripped and fell flat on the ground somewhere in the six or eight feet that separated Ezekiel and Mary Katherine. He no longer felt cold. Instead, heat curled around his neck, and he was sixteen all over again, stomping up the steps to his first singing. He hazarded a glance at Mary Katherine. She looked about as comfortable as a cat who suddenly woke up in a pit bull’s pen.
“You’re doing too much at the restaurant. You need to get more rest.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll find someone. If all else fails, Carlene will come back for a few weeks until I can get someone.”
“Fine.” She hesitated. “I’m glad you gave him a job. He needed it.”
“He’s a gut cook. A gut call on your part.”
“Gott’s timing.” Cyrus threw in the comment.
Mary Katherine nodded. Ezekiel forced himself to do the same.
“I’ll come up to the house for supper tonight to meet Burke.” Freeman seemed to have no appreciation for the unsettling nature of his remark. Or that he’d just invited himself to supper. “I’d like to draw my own conclusions.”
“I’ll let Leah and William know.”
The others trooped toward the doors. Ezekiel remained seated, watching them go, hoping they would simply file out.
Mary Katherine looked back. “Are you coming?”
Leave it to her. Ezekiel managed a smile. “I have a pebble in my boot or a twig. I’m right behind you.”
She nodded and disappeared through the door.
It was a small white lie, but still a lie in the very place where they’d just worshipped the Lord. Not that he’d done a good job of it. He’d spent the last ten years coming to church services hoping to find an answer to a question he couldn’t even begin to frame aloud.
He didn’t even dare think it. How dare he question God’s will?
The thought made him queasy. Or maybe it was his empty stomach.
He leaned over and put his head down. They didn’t need to know he was afraid to get up in front of them for fear he’d keel over.
ELEVEN
A ramp fashioned from unfinished wood kept the steps company in front of Leah and William’s house. Burke’s pause in front of it told Ezekiel the other man was contemplating the need for such a contraption. He trudged up the incline, feeling every move in his back and hips. Despite being a day of rest, the Sunday had been long. He’d come home from church to find Burke planted in the same chair as the previous night, tiny glasses perched on his nose, reading a ragged paperback entitled On the Road by Jack Kerouac. He agreed to the invitation to supper after a long, pondering moment.
The rest of the afternoon had passed in more companionable silence with Burke reading his novel and Ezekiel his stack of Budget newspapers. He’d gotten behind. He heard most of the local news at the Purple Martin, but he liked to see what Mary Katherine contributed, as well as keeping up with all his family and friends across Amish country.
“My grandson uses crutches to get around.”
Burke tromped up the ramp, his arms swinging as if to gain momentum. His flattop was covered by a scruffy New York Yankees ball cap. “None of my business.”
“Kenneth was born too early and he came out the wrong way. It did something to his brain. When he was about three, we noticed something was wrong with the way he walked. On tippy toes and holding on to stuff. His calves were stiff as boards. It has a fancy name. I had my daughter write it down for me. Spastic diplegia cerebral palsy.”
His pronunciation no doubt left a lot to be desired, but Burke nodded. “If he has cerebral palsy and he’s able to walk under his own speed, he’s doing well.”
“He thinks so. He walks like his legs are scissors, but he’s still all over the place all day long. He plays volleyball using just one crutch, and the cousins run him back and forth in a wheelbarrow so he can shoot baskets during their basketball games.”
“Kids are way more resilient than adults.”
“And kinder sometimes.”
“My girl came two months early, but it didn’t affect her development.” Burke didn’t elaborate.
It wasn’t any of Ezekiel’s business either, so he opened the door and motioned the other man in. Together they traipsed through the front room to the kitchen. The scent of potatoes and onions frying mingled with the sweeter aroma of fresh-baked bread.
“Groossdaadi.” Kenneth waved from his seat on the bench. His metal crutches lay on either side of him. He grinned, as usual, his blue eyes bright with anticipation behind black-rimmed glasses that made them huge. Boo, his mutt and constant companion, settled to one side, panting, his tongue hanging out of his mouth as if he’d been running instead of following the boy around all day. Kenneth’s delighted shout lightened Ezekiel’s load. “Who did you bring? He looks like a hobo.”
How did this child know what a hobo was?
“Burke is not a hobo.” Ezekiel scrubbed the boy’s silky, fine blond hair with his water-chapped fingers and added a quick buss on the head for good measure. “He’s a guest in your daed’s house.”
“Groossdaadi is right. Little boys should keep their mouths zipped shut.” Leah set a huge dish full of macaroni and cheese–hamburger casserole on a pot holder in the middle of a pine table flanked with long benches and fixed her son with a stern stare. “Let your groossdaadi introduce our guest.”
Burke removed his cap, slid onto the end of the bench closest to the boy, and introduced himself. “I like your dog.” He patted Boo’s gray head.
If he didn’t know better, Ezekiel would have thought the mangy old mutt smiled.
“He’s a handsome fellow,” Burke said.
That was a matter of opinion. The dog, who might be part bulldog and part dachshund, was fat. He slobbered. He’d been known to snore. Ezekiel grunted and sat on the other side. “About as handsome as I am.”
Kenne
th roared as if this were the funniest thing ever. “He’s a dog. He looks like a dog.” Made sense. “Do you have a dog?”
Before Burke could answer, William strode into the kitchen, Freeman behind him. More introductions. Freeman and Burke eyed each other like two bulls sharing a pasture. Freeman nodded and plopped onto the bench next to Ezekiel. “Good to meet you. Mary Kay told me about you.”
Burke nodded. “She is a kind woman.”
“A kind woman who has shown a lack of good sense recently.”
Burke’s eyebrows rose and fell. He smoothed Boo’s gray fur. The dog’s mouth opened in a wide smile that revealed a set of yellow teeth. “I could see how a person might think that.”
“We should pray before the food gets cold.”
They prayed silently. Freeman punctuated it with an amen. They passed heavy dishes of fried potatoes, green beans, sliced tomatoes, and corn on the cob. They buttered rolls and sipped lukewarm water. Kenneth never stopped talking. “Where did you come from, Burke? Do you have a family? Are you going to come to supper again? Do you have a dog?”
“Kenneth, mind your manners and eat.” William plopped a piece of corn on the boy’s plate. He gave Freeman a nervous glance. It wasn’t every day the bishop ate at their house. Freeman had his mouth full, corn in one hand and roll in the other. “It’s not a child’s place to ask an adult questions like that.”
“It’s all right.” Burke laid his roll on his plate and picked up his fork. “Children are far more honest than adults, in my experience. It’s an attribute I value.”
“So do I.” Ezekiel passed the green beans to Leah. She accepted with a bashful smile. She wasn’t much of a talker, but she was a good cook and a good mother. “So is being nice.”
“I’m nice.” Kenneth gripped a corncob. He had more butter on his fingers than the corn. He chewed and grinned, kernels stuck between his teeth. “I give Liliana my cows. And Caleb plays with my horses.”
