by Kelly Irvin
“Carlene and Leah will clean his house.”
“He likely didn’t get any sleep. He probably isn’t eating right, and his diabetes will be out of whack.” Mary Katherine heaved a breath. “I could help out front while Burke cooks.”
The front door opened, and their first customers of the day entered. A gray-haired woman dressed in a long-sleeved pink jogging suit entered, followed by a bald man in a similar suit, but his was gray. Either they were jogging by and decided to stop or the suits were keeping them warm this October morning.
Laura waved and nodded. “Burke didn’t come home last night.” She spoke the words out of the side of her mouth like a kid trying not to be heard by the teacher during school. “And Ezekiel’s dog is gone.”
“Burke was at the restaurant, I reckon.”
Laura harrumphed and trotted over to the couple. She urged them to sign the guest book Jennie had placed on a table by the entrance. They liked to keep track of how far folks came to shop and collect addresses to send sale flyers. She left them to their browsing and returned by the time Mary Katherine had given up pretending to dust.
“Or he came home and then left after he tossed the place.”
“Tossed the place means looked for something.”
“Oh. Well. Deputy Rogers is investigating this as a possible hate crime.”
“Burke doesn’t hate anyone. He’s a former Navy chaplain.”
“Whose life has been on a downward spiral.”
Mary Katherine ducked behind the counter and picked up the lightweight blue shawl Beulah had knitted for her for Christmas the previous year. “Can you watch the store by yourself?”
“Are you going for Ezekiel or for Burke?”
Mary Katherine sat in Leo’s lovely hickory rocker. Not something a saleslady should do. “Both.”
Laura glanced at their customers. The woman held a colorful queen-size Double Ring Chain quilt to her cheek, a look of unadulterated love on her face. The man shook his head. “That thing costs more than my first car.”
“I better see to our customers.” Laura patted Mary Katherine’s shoulder. “Do what you need to do, but pray first and remember that Gott is at work in this. You might not understand, but He knows what He’s doing. All that’s required of us is obedience to His will.”
“I wish I knew what that was.” Mary Katherine stood. She leaned closer to her friend—as if someone would overhear their conversation. “Ezekiel wants a fraa to share his life. That includes the restaurant.”
Laura stopped. A smile blossomed across her face with its road map of wrinkles for every sad and happy moment in her long, sturdy life. “You talked?”
Heat as fierce as any that came from a wood-burning stove billowed through Mary Katherine. She opened her mouth, then clamped it shut.
“More than talked?” Laura crowed. She clapped. Their customers looked up from their argument over the merits of spending so much on a blanket—as the man put it. Laura waved. “If you need any help, let me know. Those quilts are hand-pieced and hand-quilted by women who live in this area. It takes months to finish one. They’re sewn with love.”
The man nodded, but he didn’t look convinced. The woman’s lower lip turned down and she gave him the puppy-dog look Mary Katherine had seen on the faces of so many women wanting to buy quilts in Amish Treasures.
“What did he say?” Laura grabbed Mary Katherine’s arm and propelled her toward the door. “What did you say? When did this happen?”
“Last night.” Mary Katherine answered the last question first because it was the easiest. “It was gut. Really gut. Until we talked about the bookstore.”
“Freeman says you should work here. Besides, Dottie’s leaving.” Laura might have her moments of sassiness, but she always came back to the practical bottom line. “Fraas do as their manns ask.”
“I know.” Mary Katherine did know, but the longing to spend her days buying and selling books held deep sway over her heart. More than her feelings for Ezekiel? “I know.”
Two more customers came through the door. She should stay.
“Go to the restaurant. I can handle things here.” Laura went to greet the two Englisch women, both with toddlers in tow. “It’s not childbirth, for sure.”
She chuckled all the way to the foyer.
Guilt assailed Mary Katherine. Laura was seventy years old and retired.
On the other hand, Mary Katherine had no doubt her friend would handle things. And handle them well. She scooped up her bag and headed for the door. Outside, the brisk breeze cleared the fog in her sleep-deprived head. She climbed into the buggy. A horn tooted, two insistent short toots followed by a longer one.
Dottie’s elegant mauve sedan pulled into a parking space next to her. The passenger side window whirred its way down. Dottie leaned across the seat and waved. “I was hoping you would be here. Do you have a minute?”
“For you, always.” Mary Katherine climbed back down, opened the car door, and slid onto the cool, brown leather seat. “I was going to come by the house later today. I want you to come out for supper before you leave town. Have you started packing? Do you need help?”
“Slow down the horses.” Dottie grabbed a tissue from an economy-size box sitting on the seat between them. She wiped her already red, swollen nose. “Let me talk, will you?”
Mary Katherine’s normally spiffily dressed friend looked like a dishrag. She wore a faded green-plaid shirt that was two sizes too big, baggy orange sweats, and pink fuzzy slippers. Her gray hair hung in clumps around her face, which bore no makeup. Her eyes were red with dark circles under them. “Of course, you first.”
Dottie wadded up the tissue and tossed it in a growing pile on the seat. She sniffed and put both hands on the wheel. Her wedding ring, a chunk of diamond the size of a nickel, sparkled in the sun. She wore no other jewelry. She stared straight ahead.
“Dottie?”
“I don’t think I can do it.”
“Do what?”
The air in the car began to warm. The pause stretched. Tears trickled down Dottie’s face, wetting her cheeks and sliding down her chin.
“Dottie, please, tell me what’s going on.” Mary Katherine slid closer and took her friend’s hand. Dottie sniffed and let her head fall forward so her forehead rested on the wheel. Mary Katherine let go of her hand and patted her shoulder. “There will be rough days like this, but I promise you, it gets better.”
“I can’t sell the house. I can’t leave it.” Dottie closed her eyes. “I can’t leave him. How will I visit his grave if I move to Dallas? Who will put flowers on it and clean the headstone? What about his pickup truck? I can’t sell his pickup truck.”
“I understand. Completely.”
“I know you do. That’s why I had to talk to you.” Dottie straightened. Her eyes opened. She grabbed Mary Katherine’s hand. “We have to open the bookstore. Walt loved the idea. He wanted me to be happy. He knew it was my dream and he wanted me to have it, even though he really only wanted to travel around in an RV, him driving and me in the passenger seat navigating. I don’t know how to tell my kids I don’t want to leave Jamesport.”
“Walt will be with you no matter where you go.”
“I know that. You knew Moses would always be with you, but you didn’t want to leave your house either.”
Letting the sun beating through the windshield warm her face, Mary Katherine folded her hands in her lap and stared at the store. Freeman had said no. Jennie and the others needed her here. Ezekiel wanted her at the restaurant. Ezekiel wanted a wife who wanted what he wanted. Dottie was offering her the chance to have her dream. But wanting her own dreams was tantamount to vanity. It was a far cry from Gelassenheit, the bending of her will to God’s. It was selfish, not selfless. Thy will be done.
“I’m fine living with Thomas and his fraa. Moses is still with me—still in my heart. I work at the Combination Store and I’m fine. It’s for the best. You’ll get used to the idea, I promise.”
“There’s a difference between fine and happy.” Dottie hiccupped a sob. “There’s a difference between existing and living. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life without Walt and just existing. I can’t bear it.”
She would bear it because she would have no choice. Mary Katherine didn’t tell Dottie that. She couldn’t tell her about Ezekiel, either. Not with Dottie’s fresh, gaping wound where her heart once lived. Her friend wouldn’t be able to imagine how love could tiptoe in when a woman least expected it and begin to mend that wound with tiny, perfect stitches. The mended heart was different—scarred, more mature, less trusting, but a heart primed for love nevertheless. “I wish I could say something to make you feel better. I know I can’t. No one can. But I can promise that it won’t always feel this way.”
“I need to do something. I can’t sit around the house and be sad all the time. It’s killing me. I thought I would pack, but that’s when I realized I can’t let go of a single thing in that house. Every piece of furniture, every dish, every glass, every photo, even the TV remote, for goodness’ sake—everything reminds me of him.”
“Now is not the best time to make big decisions about your life. Give it some time.”
Easy for Mary Katherine to say. Just as it had been easy for others to spout similar platitudes when Moses died. Few people could find the words that would serve as a life preserver for a person drowning in a flood of grief, no land in sight.
“The girls are upset with me. They think I should go with them. They’re afraid I’ll turn into a crazy cat lady living all alone in a little town where there’s nothing to do and no one to talk to.”
“We won’t let that happen. You have friends here. You’ll have your card games and the football game nights and church Bible studies.” Dottie was one of the most social people Mary Katherine knew. “Tell them you realize you need time before you make any decisions about your life. They’ll understand.”
“There won’t be any more card games or football nights. They’re all couples. I’m not a couple anymore.”
Plain women congregated together for frolics, while men did man things. Still, the conversations that swirled around Mary Katherine often filled her with a sense of sadness that she would not grow old with her husband, she would not share a cranky descent into achy joints and failing eyesight and thinning hair. She had been blessed by deep and steadfast friendships with Laura, Jennie, and Bess, who understood what it meant to be a wife without a husband in a tight-knit community where family was second only to faith.
“You may be surprised at the new friendships you’ll forge. With time, you’ll make new friends.”
“The girls seem to think the loss of a husband turns a wife into a helpless old lady.”
“You may be a lot of things, Dottie, but helpless is not one of them.”
“What makes them think they’re the boss of me?”
“I don’t know, but my children think they’re the boss of me.” Mary Katherine chuckled. “Even Ezekiel’s children have suggested to him what he should do. But it’s different because he’s a man. They’ll abide by his wishes.”
“Ezekiel? What does he have to do with any of this?”
Mary Katherine scolded her loose lips. “Just another example of a grown person who lost his loved one.”
“It’s different for men. I may be a woman, but I still have a mind of my own.”
“So do Plain women, but we follow the dictates of Scripture. ‘For the husband is the head of the wife, even as Christ is head of the church.’”
“Doesn’t the Bible say children should respect their parents?”
“It does.”
Dottie snatched another tissue and mopped her face. “Walt left me well taken care of. Life insurance out the kazoo. The house is paid for. The car is paid for.” She wiggled in the seat so she half faced Mary Katherine. “I have the money to buy the building and fix it up. You could help me figure out what it should look like, stock it, and run it. No financial risk. What do you say?”
Mary Katherine looked away. She couldn’t hold her friend’s gaze. Ezekiel’s words rang in her ears. He wanted a wife who would work with him in the restaurant. He wanted a partner. Plain men might be the head of the house, but they wanted partners in life. Someone with whom they could discuss decisions before making them. She’d experienced that special give-and-take with Moses. She wanted it again.
She also wanted her dream of a bookstore. A place where she could live and breathe books all day long. Write even. Between customers. Early in the morning. Over her midday meal.
Freeman hadn’t said no. He’d said not now.
“I don’t know if I can.” She forced herself to meet Dottie’s gaze. “I want to. I really do. But there are things going on.”
Dottie gave her nose a good honk. “I’m doing it. Even if I have to do it alone. You’re my best friend, Mary Kay. Don’t make me do this alone too.”
“I wish I could help. I really do. But it’s not up to me. I know that’s hard to understand.”
“I’ve lived near an Amish community my entire life.” Dottie tossed the tissue in the pile. “I understand. That doesn’t mean I like it. I hope you’ll understand when I move on without you.”
Mary Katherine did understand. That didn’t mean she had to like it.
TWENTY-SEVEN
The sign in the window at the Purple Martin said OPEN. Relief swept through Ezekiel. He sucked in cool air. His chest felt tighter with each breath. Despite the cold, sweat dampened his shirt. William had insisted he sleep at the house. Sure he wouldn’t sleep a wink, Ezekiel slid into the extra bed in Kenneth’s room and passed out. The sun had been high in the sky when he finally dragged himself from a dreamless, deep slumber. Peeved that they let him sleep.
The world wouldn’t end, William had said, if the restaurant didn’t open right on time. No, but closed doors didn’t pay the salaries of the people who depended on Ezekiel for a living. It took time to prepare for the lunch crowd.
No Sunny sitting on the porch, panting, tongue hanging out, greeted him. Which did nothing for his mood on the drive into town.
What kind of person took a man’s dog?
The question nagged him as he stared at his restaurant. Just a dog. He should’ve known better than to get attached to a mangy old dog.
Not old and not mangy. Sunny was just a puppy.
Were they feeding him? Were they scratching that spot behind his ears that he liked so much his tail thumped a hole in the rug and his smile grew so big he nearly choked himself?
He’s just a dog.
A silver four-door car was parked at the curb in front of the restaurant. Should he be relieved or worried? Burke closed. He didn’t open. Why would he be here now? Who else could it be? Besides Burke, only Andrew, John, and Ezekiel had keys. All the way into town he’d chastised himself for leaving the restaurant in the hands of a man he barely knew. According to Dan, the restaurant had been locked up tight when he checked the previous evening. Nothing had seemed out of place. His face haggard from lack of sleep, the deputy returned the restaurant key at midnight and urged Ezekiel to get some sleep.
A person could argue that the whereabouts of a man he barely knew was none of Ezekiel’s business. On the other hand, he’d opened his home to Burke and given him a job. A hollow, ugly suspicion seemed determined to wriggle its way into his heart. He’d snapped the bolt on the door that led to all his feelings and his doubts and fears. He let the man in. Burke had no answers. He couldn’t even fix his own life. Ezekiel wanted answers. To more than a break-in and a missing dog.
He didn’t want a dog for this very reason. Sunny had snuck in right behind Burke.
The more Ezekiel stewed, the more he steamed. He drove around back and unhitched Swede. He left the horse in the enclosure he’d built for him right after he bought the building. His stomach roiled. A wave of light-headedness inundated him. He needed to eat. The doctor had been clear about that. How could a person eat in the midst o
f so much turmoil?
He barged through the back door, marched through his office, picking up speed, stomped through the kitchen, and hit the swinging doors at full velocity. They banged against the walls. The smell of coffee brewing and cinnamon rolls baking greeted him. Acid rose in his throat. He swallowed against the burning sensation. A woman’s laugh sounded.
He halted.
Burke stood behind the counter, his back to Ezekiel. He had a dish towel slung over one shoulder and he wore a Purple Martin T-shirt with the restaurant’s name emblazoned in black against the purple cotton material. A woman in a navy-blue sweatshirt that read GO NAVY in gold letters across her chest sat on one of the stools. Her deep-brown eyes filled with lively curiosity at the sight of Ezekiel.
Burke turned and held up an oversized coffee mug in a careful salute. “Hey, Ezekiel. I have the coffeepot fired up and cinnamon rolls in the oven. The lasagna is baking and all the vegetable and fruit prep has been done.” He cocked his head toward the woman. “Meet Lieutenant Commander Carina Lopez. We knew each other in the Chaplain Corps in Norfolk. She helped with the prep.”
Carina had silver hair cropped short and tawny-brown skin. She slid from the stool and held out her hand. “So you’re Mac’s boss.” She grinned with a smile full of brilliant white teeth. She wore no makeup or jewelry and exuded health from the pink of her cheeks to the shine of her hair. “He’s been bending my ear about you.”
“Mac?”
“That’s what we called him. When we weren’t on duty. Then he was Lieutenant McMillan.”
Courtesy required Ezekiel to move forward and shake her hand. He made quick work of it. “Good to meet you.” Then he focused on Burke. “Where have you been?”
He sounded like his mother. From Burke’s expression, his employee agreed with that assessment. “Around.”
“Someone came into the house last night.”
“While you were there?”
“While I was gone.” He stuttered over the last word. While he was with Mary Katherine doing what Burke had urged him to do. Get on with his life. “Someone threw things around, tore things up. Stole a few things. And Sunny is gone.”
