by Kelly Irvin
“But you like her too.”
Burke grabbed a bag of sugar and a large can of pumpkin from the shelf. “I do. She’ll be back. Now and then.” Surprise mingled with something akin to fear in the man’s tone. Like Ezekiel, he wanted more but feared the consequences of that want. The possibilities of loss and hurt and pain that came with any opening up to another human being. “That’s enough for now. All I can handle for now.”
Burke wasn’t leaving. Relief flooded through Ezekiel, and with it the knowledge that his plan might also be God’s plan. He might be on the right track. Without being selfish. His plan would be a balm to Burke’s wounds as well as his own.
“By the way, I’ve found a little place here in town. I put down first and last month’s rent. And a pet deposit. I’ll be getting out of your hair.”
“You can’t have Sunny.”
“I’ll get my own dog.”
Company on long, dark nights had been good. The smell of coffee perking before Ezekiel got out from under the covers had been nice. The companionable silences, nice. “Gut. That’s gut.”
“It’s not much. A one-bedroom duplex with a little patch of yard and not a stick of furniture, but I figure it’s time. I’ve worn out my welcome a long time ago.”
“Your company was welcome. But a man needs his own place, I reckon. Yard sales are good for finding furniture. And the Goodwill. There’s something else I want to talk to you about.” Ezekiel stood by the table and watched the other man work. A thrill went through him like a kid about to win the fifty-yard dash. The unknown awaited him. Even at his age, a man could want that. A Plain man could need that. “It’s about the restaurant.”
Burke dumped the can’s contents into a mixing bowl with a cup of sugar. He added two eggs. “Everything okay?”
“I believe it is. I hope so.” He moved to the other side of the table so he could see Burke’s face. “I have liked working here all these years. The Purple Martin Café has been my home since my wife died. It’s been good for me and for my family.”
Burke’s gaze met Ezekiel’s for a second. It held understanding and compassion. “The Purple Martin is a testament to your resilience.”
Ezekiel didn’t know exactly what that meant. “I want you to have it.”
Burke’s hands stilled. “Come again?”
“You plan to stay in Jamesport.”
“As far as I know.”
“You like food. You’re a good cook. You’re good with people. This is your new experience.”
“You want me to manage your restaurant.”
“I want you to own my restaurant.”
“I don’t have the money to buy a restaurant, even if I thought it was a good idea.”
“I think you can afford the asking price. One dollar and the promise that you’ll continue to make it a place families come because it feels like home.”
His mouth open, eyes squinted, Burke shook his head. He glanced around as if seeing the kitchen in a strange, new light. “I can’t pay you a dollar for this place. It’s worth—”
“It’s worth a million good memories, but working around food all day isn’t good for my diabetes. I’m passing it on to you so you can make your own new memories.”
“That’s not why you’re doing this, though, is it?”
“This place is perfect for you. You can feed people physically and spiritually. You could call it Pulpit and Pie.”
“I would never change the name. This will always be the Purple Martin. Is this about Mary Katherine?”
The oven timer dinged. Ezekiel donned hot-pad gloves and slipped the pies from the oven. The crumbled tops of the dutch apple pies were golden brown. The scent of apple and cinnamon made his mouth water.
“Those look perfect. Nothing like making pie you can’t eat.”
“Kenneth will be glad you’re staying. He’s to have surgery after the first of the year. Your company will help him recover faster.”
“That’s another thing I’ll miss about being out at your place. That and the fishing.” Burke chuckled. “And your hot cocoa.”
“Maybe he could help out around here. Learn to cook. Work the cash register when he gets a little older. His mudder worries about what he’ll do as a Plain man unable to do hard manual labor.”
“If his parents agree to it, I’d be honored to have him as my apprentice.”
“I’m thinking about getting into the bookstore business.”
Burke measured ginger and dumped it into the bowl, but his grin said he was listening.
“I talked to Freeman about it.”
“I’d like to have been a fly on the wall for that discussion.”
Freeman had been kind, if a little bemused by Ezekiel’s plan. Others might see a grumpy, picky man, but Ezekiel saw through that to the compassionate heart that always longed to do the right thing in God’s eyes. A bishop’s job wasn’t easy. “He’s a good man. A wise man.”
“Who sees right through you and your plan for going into the bookstore business, I’m sure.”
“Can you keep a secret?”
Burke snorted. “I was a chaplain.”
“I’m getting married.”
Burke whooped. “Does she know that?”
“Not yet. I wanted to get things squared away first.”
“Consider them squared.”
“I’ve made all these plans and still . . .”
“She’ll say yes.”
Ezekiel wanted that assurance. “How do you know?”
“She risked getting in trouble to help you get your dog back.”
“So she did. Still—”
“Don’t be a wuss.” Burke chortled. “She’s worth it.”
“A wuss? Plain men are not wusses.”
“Cowards.”
“Nee.”
“Nee. I guess I’d better learn some more words from Kenneth if I’m going to stay around here.”
“He’ll be happy to know you’re staying.” Ezekiel removed his apron and tossed it in the laundry basket on the back wall. “Can you hold down the fort?”
“Absolutely.” Burke looked around as if his new station in life had begun to sink in. “Are you headed out to Mary Kay’s?”
“Nee, I need to stop by the bookstore first.”
THIRTY-SIX
Two blue jays flapped their wings and took off with pecans in their beaks. Mary Katherine apologized for interrupting their dinner as she climbed down from her buggy. Bess and Aidan’s white A-frame house with its wraparound porch looked so fresh and white against the cloudy autumn sky. Like it had a fresh coat of paint. The flower beds were empty, but Bess had placed an arrangement of pumpkins and gourds by the front door along with a small chalkboard sign that read WELCOME, ALL WHO ENTER HERE. The sight made Mary Katherine smile for the first time in days.
Clutching her precious package in her arms, she trudged up the steps. She had plenty of time to visit now. A quiet life suited to a Plain widow woman. Freeman hadn’t used those words when he pronounced her sentence—that’s the way she thought of it—but that’s what he meant. Taking care of the boplin, canning, gardening, and dispensing kisses to boo-boos. A sweet life. One she welcomed. Her grandchildren entertained her with their pretend play and funny stories. Just the day before she’d played hopscotch and jump rope—if holding the rope counted.
She climbed into bed too exhausted to write.
But not too exhausted to think. She didn’t regret anything she’d done. She didn’t regret making that trip.
Sunny was only a dog. The teakettle was only a teakettle. Bess’s crib quilt was only a crib quilt.
But the look on Ezekiel’s face when he saw Sunny bounding from behind that door had been priceless. She’d shared that moment with him. Ezekiel had lost so much. He didn’t need another loss, even if it was only a dog.
“You want to share more with him.”
We need to say good-bye, Moses. “It’s about time.”
I’ll always miss you.
&nb
sp; “I wish you happiness, Fraa.”
Sweet dreams, Mann.
She began to hum “How Great Thou Art,” under her breath at first, then louder.
After a few bars, she stopped. The silence was replete with emptiness. Her new quiet life had grown quieter. It didn’t help that she hadn’t seen Ezekiel in two weeks. She hadn’t been near the Purple Martin. She didn’t dare. Freeman and the others were watching.
She hadn’t gone to the bookstore either.
She missed Dottie. She missed Ezekiel. She missed the Combination Store and Jennie’s chatter.
So be it. She had no one to blame but herself.
She tightened her shawl around her shoulders and paused. Despite the sun, the air had a distinct chill to it. She shivered and knocked.
A few minutes passed. She considered knocking again. The door opened. Barbara smiled out at her.
“What are you doing here?”
Barbara pushed open the screen door. “I could ask you the same question. I thought you were confined to the dawdy haus.”
“Hardly. Visiting is allowed.” She had plenty of time for visiting. “Where’s Bess?”
“In here.” Bess’s voice floated through the open door. “Feeding the bopli. Come in, come in.”
Doing as she was told, Mary Katherine followed her daughter into the living room. Material was spread across a table near the front window, and the treadle sewing machine held pale-green material in its teeth. “Getting some sewing done?”
“Among other things.” Barbara’s tone was airy. “Bess is showing me how to make her recipe for stuffed cabbage. It’s one of Joseph’s favorite dishes when the weather’s cold.”
“Gut for you. So things are going better then?” Mary Katherine plopped onto the sofa and undid her shawl. It was a cozy room with a cheerful fire roaring in the fireplace. “No more sugar in the spaghetti sauce?”
“I took your advice and slowed down.” Barbara held out a plate of oatmeal-raisin cookies. “Have one. I made them. They have pecans in them that I picked from the trees in our front yard. Joseph ate four of them for supper last night.”
She looked so proud and so happy. What a difference a few weeks made. Those adjustments to a new, married life could be made. Love smoothed the way. Perhaps this was something Mary Katherine could learn from her often wayward but always well-meaning daughter. Despite a dismal appetite that had nothing to do with a physical ailment, Mary Katherine accepted her offering. She laid the cookie on a napkin on the coffee table and picked up her bag. “It looks so gut. No wonder he ate four.”
“Taste it, taste it!” Barbara’s face creased in a frown. “How do you know if you don’t try it? Are you afraid it’s inedible?”
“Of course not.” Mary Katherine took a cautious bite and chewed. Soft, chewy, sweet, a bit of crunch in the pecans, just the right consistency. “Yum. These are delicious.”
“Told you!” Barbara crowed in triumph. “I also made a banana cream pie that was perfect, and I did laundry without turning the whites blue. Joseph hasn’t complained once in three days.”
Three days. A milestone in what would be a long marriage of fifty years or more, God willing. “Gut for you, Dochder. I’m so happy for you.”
“You should try it. I know I had doubts about you marrying again, but now I know it’s what everyone—even old women—should do. I know Ezekiel didn’t just stop at the house that day to make sure the thieves didn’t get you. He’s courting you, isn’t he? You should—”
“Whoa! Hush. Courting is private. If there is any courting going on, which I’m not saying there is. Or isn’t.” Mary Katherine shook her finger at Barbara. A daughter did not give her mother advice on courting. Even if she finally had it all figured out, while Mary Katherine did not. “I’m on my way to have a visit with Samantha and Dylan’s kinner, but I wanted to make a quick stop here first. I have something for you, Bess.”
“For me?” Bess shifted Leyla to her shoulder and began to pat. A gusty burp followed. “Gut girl. Her—not you, Mary Kay.”
The three of them laughed. “Deputy Rogers was kind enough to allow me to return it. He knows how much these simple things mean to us.” She unwrapped the crib quilt and held it out. “You’ll want this for Leyla.”
Bess’s eyes filled with tears. She shifted Leyla to the other side and held out her free hand. “You’re so sweet to bring it to me. You didn’t have to go out of your way.”
“Jah, I did. I wanted you to have it as soon as possible.” Mary Katherine’s crib quilt had gone to her eldest daughter, just as Bess’s would go to Leyla. “He also returned my missing items. Including pieces of Moses’ chess set. It feels gut to have them back.”
Especially now that she had sent Moses away. The wood felt warm to the touch, just as he had.
“Little bits of our past.” Bess laid the quilt in her lap and wrapped Leyla in it. “She has no idea right now what it means, but someday she will.”
“I wish I had a quilt to give my bopli.” Barbara gazed wistfully at Leyla. “I can’t wait to have a bopli who needs a quilt.”
“We’ll make one. We’ll start your tradition.” Bess smiled at her friend. “Choose a pattern and we’ll start making it next week. You’ll have it in time for Christmas.”
“Maybe I’ll be expecting by then.”
“Barbara!”
Her daughter grinned a cheeky grin so familiar Mary Katherine had to smile back. “Is that stuffed cabbage I smell? It’s making my mouth water.”
“Ach, I better check on it.” Barbara jolted to her feet and scurried from the room.
Mary Katherine leaned back on the sofa and blew out a huge sigh. “Danki for taking her under your wing.”
“You did all the work, bringing her up.” Bess chuckled. “She’s a gut girl. She just needs a little polish. You have your hands full.”
“So do you.”
“What are friends for?” Bess kissed Leyla’s soft blonde curls. “How are you?”
“Embarrassed. Ashamed. Defiant. If had to do the same thing over again, I would.”
“I reckon Freeman knows that. Which is why he’s keeping you at home.”
“Wouldn’t you have done the same?”
Bess shook her head. “I’ve asked myself that question, but a person never knows what they would do at any given moment until they’re in that situation. What it does tell me, though, is that you trust Ezekiel with your life. That’s something.”
“It is something.” What, Mary Katherine wasn’t sure.
“Something to ponder. Is Thomas still mad?”
“Jah. All of my suhs are.”
“It only means they care.”
“I know. I better get going.” She popped from the sofa and dropped a kiss on Bess’s kapp. “Danki for being a gut friend.”
“Same to you.”
“Tell Barbara I’ll see her Sunday. I think Joanna is inviting them over for supper.”
“I’ll tell her. We’ll have a frolic in a few weeks. We can start making Christmas presents.”
Mary Katherine wanted to stay, but instead, she said her final good-bye and headed out to the buggy. Half an hour later she pulled into the front yard that once belonged to her and Moses. She spent most of the drive talking to God, thanking Him for Bess and for Barbara’s progress as wives. One less thing to worry about. Not worry. She didn’t worry. Not much.
The pecan trees in her front yard—now Dylan’s front yard—were loaded. Samantha should get the kids out there to pick them before the birds carried them off. The house looked as inviting as ever. A trampoline graced the spot next to the picnic table. Dylan had strung a tire swing from the biggest sycamore tree. A small pony cart was parked outside the corral. Children lived here again. It was a good thing. She would spend a lot of time here, now that she’d been forbidden from working in town.
She trudged up the steps. Samantha could use help today with laundry, cooking, yardwork, and the sewing, just as Joanna could. While she was here,
Mary Katherine could pick up the last of her things for the dawdy haus. Not that she spent a lot of time there, mostly to sleep. She lingered on the porch. Should she knock or go straight in? It wasn’t her house, but she was the grandmother.
The door opened. Samantha peered through the screen door. “Mary Kay. You’re here. Why didn’t you come in?”
Mary Katherine smiled at the tiny, wren-like mother of four. “I was just thinking.”
“I’ll come out and think with you. It’s a nice day for that, isn’t it?” She let the screen door clunk behind her and settled on the porch steps. Mary Katherine plopped down next to her. Samantha gave her a one-armed hug. “You look pooped. Are Joanna’s kinner running you ragged? Mine are looking forward to story time. Annabelle has a new story she wrote just for you. It has cows and ponies and a green cat in it. I made snickerdoodles special for your visit.”
More cookies. A person could never get enough of homemade cookies. “It sounds wunderbarr. I can’t wait to hear Annabelle’s story.”
“They’re out digging up the last of the sweet potatoes for supper. They’ll be in soon.” Samantha wrapped her arms around her knees and raised her face to the sun. “Change is hard.”
“My suhs are still so peeved at me.”
“They’ll get over it.”
“I’m not sure Freeman will.”
“I’ve only heard bits and pieces. Dylan won’t talk about it. He gets this aggrieved look on his face and stomps around if I bring it up.”
Mary Katherine told the story. When she got to the part about getting in Tony’s car to drive to Ezekiel’s house in the middle of the night, Samantha gasped and put a hand to her mouth.
“He’s a teenager. I know him.” Mary Katherine talked faster. Laura and Jennie had had the same response. Joanna too. “He’s worked with Ezekiel for years. It wasn’t any different than hiring a driver. And my reason for going to Ezekiel’s was a gut one.”
“You should see your face.” Chuckling, Samantha elbowed Mary Katherine’s arm. “If you really thought everything you did was okay, you wouldn’t feel so guilty. I don’t think it’s the ride with Tony that you feel guilty about, though.”
