Through the Autumn Air

by Kelly Irvin

  Burke ordered two burgers with everything on them except onion, two bags of chips, and two individually wrapped brownies. All without consulting her. Abigail wrote it all on a ticket, added it up by hand, and offered the piece of paper to him. Her eyebrows remained hitched up and her lips turned down the entire time. The woman’s mother and half a dozen older sisters would know by the end of day that Mary Katherine had been in the burger tent with the Englisch chaplain. Abigail would probably tell them she’d served as a chaperone.

  “What kind of pop?”

  “A bottle of water.”

  He paid, she thanked him, and they picked a spot downwind from the smoke and sat. She laid her notebook in front of her and fiddled with her pencil with both hands. “What did Deputy Rogers say about the break-ins? Anything new?”

  “He said the break-ins are all at Amish homes. Only small items of little value are taken. Which we already knew.” He gave her a rueful smile. “My fingerprints are at two of the homes.”

  “For reasons that have already been stated.”

  “Yep, and no suspects. No other fingerprints that are in the system. No witnesses. And no Sunny.”

  “It’s sad that someone would take a man’s dog.”

  “The deputy thinks Sunny ran off. We’d only had him a few weeks. Dan insists he probably went back to his old owner.”

  “But you don’t believe that.”

  “Sunny adored Ezekiel. The man spoiled the mutt. He was already best buddies with Kenneth’s dog, Boo. And he had good chow.” He sighed. “I’m sorry I brought him home. Ezekiel didn’t have a dog for a reason.”

  “He didn’t want to get attached.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I wish we could figure out who’s doing this.”

  “With all those big farms out there, it’s a lot of territory for the deputy to cover.” Burke snorted. “Especially when the deputy is mostly looking at me.”

  Deputy Rogers didn’t have the good sense God gave him. “He really thinks you did it?”

  “He doesn’t want to think it’s someone local. Easier to blame an outsider he knows burglarized an Amish home.” Burke’s face was full of regret. “I don’t blame him. If it weren’t for Carina, he would’ve thrown me in the slammer.”

  “Carina is nice.”

  “Carina saved my life.” His fervent response matched the sudden spark of emotion in his face.

  “And now she’s here checking on you? Are you going back east with her?”

  “I don’t know. She wants me to.” He snapped the pop-top on his pop can, his forehead wrinkled in concentration. “I keep reminding her she’s the one who encouraged me to leave Norfolk.”

  “To become homeless and hitchhike across the country.” Mary Katherine added mustard and catsup to her hamburger even though she’d lost interest in eating it. “Interesting advice from a lady priest.”

  “She didn’t intend for me to be homeless or hitchhike. She said I needed a fresh start.” He sipped his pop and set the can on the table. “She probably meant teaching at a university or taking a post at a civilian church. Anyway, enough about me.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Don’t be a busybody. My chaplain skills must be rusty. I used to be able to steer these conversations better. I want to help you, not the other way around.”

  Another man calling her a busybody. “You think me and Ezekiel are your projects.”

  “You are.”

  “You’re our project.”

  “I’m not anybody’s project. Okay, maybe Kenneth’s. That boy gives me hope for the world.” He dribbled catsup and mustard over his hamburger and smooshed the bun down on the pile of lettuce, tomato, and pickle. “I’m fine.”

  His concentration on the burger could only mean one thing. “Is Carina a permanent fixture in your life?”

  “You mean like a girlfriend-slash-fiancée?”

  Mary Katherine had only known the man less than two months. The depth of her need for him to be happy caught her off guard. “Yes.”

  “Then no. I’m surprised you want to talk about this with me.” He took a bite and chewed. Catsup decorated one corner of his mouth. He dabbed at his face with a paper napkin and swallowed. “Do Amish women talk to men about this stuff?”

  “No.”

  “But you do.”

  “Moses always said I was incapable of keeping my nose in my own business.” As recently as today he’d said it. Burke didn’t need to know that. “Like you said, a busybody.”

  “No. A nurturer. In another life you might have been a minister or a psychologist or a social worker. You think you can fix people.”

  In another life? Burke had an active imagination too. “So do you.”

  “No. I just figure if I’m focused on others, I’m less likely to fixate on my own woes.”

  “Did you try to kill yourself after your wife died?” The question popped out. Embarrassment swirled around her. None of her business. Why ask him to tear open an old wound in the process of healing? “You don’t have to answer that. Please don’t answer that. I’m an idiotic old nosy busybody.”

  “No, you’re not.” He folded the remainder of his hamburger into its waxed paper. Sadness permeated his face. He looked older than she did. “The Bible is silent on whether suicide is a sin, but Scripture does say murder is a sin. Isn’t killing yourself a form of murder? Only God should decide when it’s time for us to go.”

  Maybe he needed to talk about it. “Does it worry you that you might not see her in heaven?”

  “It worries me that I might not get to heaven.”

  Mary Katherine had that same thought in the dark of night. “Worry is a sin.”

  He sighed. “Worry is human.” Burke plucked a pickle from the waxed paper and ate it plain, his pleasure in his puckered lips.

  “Are you afraid to go back?”

  He wrapped his napkin around the pop can, soaking up the condensation. “The worst thing that could ever happen to me happened. Then it happened again. I’m not afraid of anything anymore.”

  “I’m afraid of making the wrong choice.” Here she sat in the middle of downtown Jamesport telling an Englisch man her deepest fear. No wonder her sons were concerned about her. Still, he was a preacher. A man who would go away as suddenly as he arrived. “I’m afraid I lack faith.”

  “I can understand that. Ezekiel is afraid of the same thing.”

  Mary Katherine dropped the remainder of her hamburger on the paper plate. “You’re determined to work him into this conversation.”

  “Ezekiel is a good man. I’m determined for someone to be happy.” Burke opened his bag of chips. It tore in two. Chips scattered across the table. He stared at them as if he couldn’t fathom how it happened. “Suffice it to say I don’t expect it for me.”

  Mary Katherine scooped up the chips, dropped them on his paper plate, and brushed the crumbs from the table. People didn’t deserve happiness, but if it came their way, it was a blessing from God. “You can’t foist happiness on others.”

  “I’m considering banging their heads together to knock some sense into them.” His grin belied the words. “I know it’s all about an attitude of gratitude and being thankful for what you do have. Every day I list my blessings. A roof over my head. A job at the Purple Martin. People like you and Ezekiel. I get it. The question is, do you? Do you see what God is giving you? It’s right in front of your nose.”

  The tent flap opened and Carina stepped through. She carried two small brown paper sacks and a larger shopping bag. Smiling, she strode toward them. “I love this place. People are so kind.” She slid onto the bench next to Burke and faced Mary Katherine. She handed him the large shopping bag. “I got you something, Mac.”

  “You shouldn’t have.” His tone was dry, but he seemed pleased. He pulled out a dark-blue, light-blue, and white block patchwork quilt the right size for a double bed.

  “One of Jennie Graber’s. Jacob’s Ladder.” Mary Katherine touched the block patc
hwork design. An odd gift for a woman to give to a man, but lovely all the same. “One of my favorites.”

  Burke scowled at Carina. “‘He saw a stairway resting on the earth, with its top reaching to heaven, and the angels of God were ascending and descending on it. There above it stood the Lord.’ Genesis 28:12.”

  “‘Surely the LORD is in this place, and I was not aware of it.’” Carina continued to smile sweetly. Her gaze encompassed Mary Katherine, but her words were directed at Burke. “‘He was afraid and said, “How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God; this is the gate of heaven.”’”

  “Genesis 28:16–17.” Burke’s scowl deepened. “If you have something to say, say it.”

  “Stop pouting and get on with your life. God is with you. If He is for you, who could be against you?”

  Mary Katherine eyed the table. She could duck for cover under it or make a run for the door.

  “I’m done being a minister.”

  “You could have fooled me.” Mary Katherine made the observation with one hand on the table in case she needed to slide under it. “You’ve been ministering to me and Ezekiel and Kenneth since you got here.”

  “That’s different. It’s called being a friend. I’m done with formal preaching. Who am I to guide a congregation? I couldn’t even save my own wife.”

  The depth of his despair showed in his face for a split second. He grabbed his pop and took a long swallow. The emotion disappeared behind the craggy mountains again.

  “You’re not responsible for your wife’s actions. She is.” Carina snatched one of Burke’s chips and popped it in her mouth. The smile she directed at Mary Katherine was sad. “Men think they’re superheroes, don’t they?”

  Ezekiel didn’t aspire to be a superhero, but he did have a stubborn streak similar to Burke’s.

  He would say the same of her, no doubt. She picked up her trash. Time to run. “I have to get to Jennie’s booth.”

  “Jennie is sweet. Her girls are precious.”

  The tent flap opened. Thomas and Joanna marched through, their four youngest with them. Thomas’s gaze immediately fell on her. His smile disappeared, replaced by that look like chronic acid indigestion.

  “Oh boy.” Burke followed her gaze. “Are you in trouble again?”

  “Why should I be in trouble?”

  “Leaving the cloister.”

  “I’m not in trouble.” Mary Katherine dumped her trash in the rusted blue barrel. “It was good to meet you, Carina.”

  “See you when you get out of time-out.”

  Ignoring him, she went to the table where Joanna settled next to the children. “Having fun?”

  Joanna’s gaze went to Thomas. “The kinner loved the cake walk and the bouncy house.”

  Thomas settled their youngest, two-year-old Toby, on the bench. He patted the boy’s blond head, but his gaze drilled Mary Katherine. “I thought you were working in Jennie’s booth.”

  “I’m headed there now.”

  “You can’t help yourself, can you?” His voice low, he jerked his head toward the table where Carina and Burke sat, still engaged in what appeared to be a heated argument. “You have to step outside the circle.”

  “I ate a hamburger with friends.”

  “He may be robbing Plain homes.”

  “He isn’t.”

  Thomas glared. “Go to work, Mudder. Then come home. Straight home.”

  “Is Groossmammi in trouble?” Four-year-old Annie looked puzzled. “What did she do?”

  “Hush and eat your hot dog.” Joanna smoothed the little one’s bun. “Don’t interrupt when grown-ups are talking.”

  “I’m not in trouble.” Mary Katherine held her son’s gaze. “Not today.” She wanted to stick her tongue out at Thomas. She refrained. Barely.

  She took her time, stopping at the flap opening to look back. Carina leaned toward Burke, her expression intent, her hand on his. She wore no wedding ring.

  Maybe Burke wasn’t as done as he thought he was. Happiness might be right in front of his nose.

  Could it be that it was in front of hers and she couldn’t see it either?

  THIRTY

  Ezekiel lifted two trays high over his head and squeezed past Miriam, who headed the other direction after delivering chicken dinners with all the trimmings to three couples seated by the windows. Pain rippled through his shoulders. His neck throbbed. The Purple Martin was packed to the rafters. Folks enjoying Heritage Days swarmed the restaurant for an Amish meal after making their purchases. It was a mixed blessing. Business was so good he was waiting tables with Miriam and Nicole. Anna would be in for the late shift, along with Burke.

  The crowd didn’t keep him from missing Mary Katherine. He missed her direct way of talking, the way she carried around a notebook everywhere and scribbled in it. He missed her nosiness and her abrupt smile. He missed kissing her. She’d hadn’t graced the Purple Martin with her presence in almost a week. He shouldn’t have pressed her to cook. He shouldn’t expect her to give up her dream for his.

  Since when did Plain women have dreams that didn’t involve Plain men? What drew him to Mary Katherine was that which kept him from having her. She was different.

  He also missed Sunny. The slobbery mess of puppy bones and loose skin.

  Not now. He was too busy to think about kisses or dogs.

  The crash of china breaking followed by bellows of laughter stopped conversation around him. He eased around, trays still in the air, to see Nicole’s miserable face as she squatted to pick up a pile of dirty dishes, some of them shattered, two tables over. The core of the boys’ basketball team lounged around a table near the front. Two snapped photos with their smartphones, then proceeded with the thumb typing that meant the photo was about to fly off somewhere.

  “You poor girl, Nicole.” Bobby Davidson, captain of the basketball team and cleanup hitter for the school’s baseball team, patted her dark head with a hand made to palm a basketball. “Maybe you can get a job making beds at the motel. You couldn’t break anything there.”

  Nicole didn’t answer. Her fair skin blanched whiter against almost-black hair. She kept picking up the pieces. Tony had called in sick, which meant the servers were doing double duty busing the dishes and cleaning the tables on one of the busiest days of fall. Unusual for him. Tony was as reliable as a Standardbred. Ezekiel slid two hot plates of french dip sandwiches and home fries, along with two plates of pork chops, mashed potatoes, gravy, and green beans onto the booth table. His customers agreed they needed nothing more at that moment, so Ezekiel went to help Nicole.

  She rose as he approached. The shoulders of her painfully thin body were hunched. “I’m sorry, Mr. Miller.”

  “Accidents happen.”

  “Nicole is an accident waiting to happen.” His arm, bicep bulging, propped on his buddy’s chair, Bobby leaned back. He was a tall blond who favored jeans and camouflage jackets during hunting season. Today he wore sweats and a team jacket. “Coach says so. He said she was born with two left feet.”

  “Her feet are fine. You boys want dessert, or are you ready for your tickets?”

  “I want pie. Can you bring me pie à la mode with a side of your sweet smile?” Mark Meade, a redheaded, oversized junior who did double duty as a basketball guard and a baseball catcher, swiped at Nicole with one meaty hand. “And fill up my tea glass again, will you? Thanks, babe.”

  Nicole jumped back. The tray hit the floor a second time. She burst into tears. “I’m so sorry, boss.” She shot toward the kitchen.

  Ezekiel knelt and picked up the dishes. He used the time to count to ten. Customers were customers, but that didn’t give them the right to harass a young girl. He stood. “I’ll be back with your pie.”

  “That’s okay, Pops, let Nicole bring it.” Bobby slapped Mark on the back and smirked. Mark shrugged, but a scarlet blush overtook his abundant freckles. “That’s what you pay her for, isn’t it?”

  A strong urge to wipe the insolent grin
off the boy’s face by taking a hickory switch to his behind in the nearest woodshed blew through Ezekiel like a summer tornado. He gritted his teeth and counted to twenty. Then he set the tray on the table and settled into a chair across from Bobby and his laughing cohorts. “I know your dad. He and your mom eat here pretty regular.” He picked up a nearly empty bottle of catsup and added it to the tray. “I know he taught you better than to be mean to girls. It’s not a manly thing to do. You all are nearly men. Old enough where I come from to be treated like men. Men treat women with respect. Plus, I imagine Coach would have something to say about you treating his daughter this way.”

  “We’re just teasing her.” Bobby’s sneer had lost some of its luster. Mark and his buddies, Trevor Watkins and Logan Reynolds, stared at the table, their hands messing with crumbs and splotches of pop. “We don’t mean anything by it.”

  “Bottom line is that I reserve the right not to serve folks who misbehave in the Purple Martin. If you can’t be polite to your server, then it’s best that you find someplace else to get your hamburgers and pie.”

  He held the boy’s gaze for a minute longer. Bobby didn’t flinch. He was used to being a big fish in a little pond, All-state basketball, baseball, and track and field. Nothing that meant anything to Ezekiel, but the kids at the school seemed to idolize him. “I’ll check on your desserts.”

  He headed back to the kitchen to find Nicole. She cut apple pie with shaking hands that threatened to spill blood.

  “Let me do that. You get the ice cream.” He took the knife from her and made quick work of sliding pie onto the saucers while she went to the freezer. “What is going on with you and those boys? I’ve never seen you have trouble with them before.”

  A few jabs here and there about being the coach’s daughter, but nothing as belittling as what he’d witnessed today. “It’s nothing.” Her gray eyes were red rimmed. “They just like to give me a hard time. My mom says it’s their way of showing affection.”

  Phoebe Wilson had a strange notion of affection. But teenage boys were strange animals. “I don’t think your dad would feel that way. Why don’t you say something to him?”