by Kelly Irvin
“Would you have waited? Or sent Tony there on his own?”
“I’d have gone to Dylan. You could’ve gone to Thomas.”
Mary Katherine sighed. “Jah.”
“But then you would’ve missed out on solving the mystery. And almost getting arrested.”
“We didn’t almost get arrested. Freeman knew kids had been trespassing on his property. He saw tire tracks. He heard Sunny barking. He called Deputy Rogers.”
“Instead of investigating himself.”
“Jah. He said it was the safest thing to do. What we should’ve done.”
“The thought of talking to a sheriff ’s deputy makes me cringe.” Samantha flapped her apron so it hid her pretty face for a second. “You’re much braver than I am. I’m glad I have a mann to take care of these things. I’d rather be in the kitchen husking corn and snapping green beans.”
“It wasn’t brave. It was foolhardy. At least that is the way Thomas and the other kinner see it. And Freeman.”
“When Moses was here, did you speak your piece in public?”
It was Mary Katherine’s turn to raise her face to the sun and study the oak tree branches that dipped and waved in the breeze. “Nee. I didn’t have to. He spoke for me.”
“He was a gut, kind man. A good mann too.”
“He was. He always asked my opinion. Many times he abided by it.”
“And when he didn’t, you knew why.”
“Usually he was right. I never told him that.” She wished she had. “He made me feel like a gut mudder and a gut fraa, even without saying the words. Sometimes he went another direction when I would’ve flapped around like a chicken with my head cut off.”
“Dylan is the same. You raised gut suhs with your mann. Suhs and dochders. That’s what we’re called to do when we marry.” Samantha flapped her hand to ward off a buzzing horsefly. “I learned that from my mudder and from you. It’s what we do. I’m content.”
Mary Katherine smiled at her daughter-in-law’s simple but oh-sowise words. Dylan had done well in choosing his wife. She raised the children and cared for her ailing parents without a single complaint. “Where are your mudder and daed?”
“My schweschder Patti has taken them to her house in Seymour for the week. That way her kinner get a chance to love on them too. We’re all taking turns. Come have a snickerdoodle. They’re still warm.” Samantha stood. “I packed up the things you mentioned at church this morning. I’ll have the kinner run the boxes out to the buggy while you have a cup of kaffi.”
Coffee sounded good. Coffee and lots of sugar. Mary Katherine hauled herself to her feet. Pain shot through her hip. She rubbed it. “Just a quick cup. I want to help the boplin with their sewing this afternoon. Before story hour.”
“The boplin aren’t boplin anymore.”
Samantha patted her belly in an unconscious gesture that made Mary Katherine smile. Her heart danced in celebration, even as she held her tongue. Her daughter-in-law was in a family way. Another grandbaby on the way. Number twenty-eight, Moses.
No answer.
It was a habit she would break. She would get used to that silence. A feeling like nostalgia at a well-worn memory slipped through her, its fingers trailing across her heart, a soft touch. The acutely aching pain where her memories of Moses resided no longer hurt.
Samantha put her hand to her forehead and squinted against the sun. “Someone’s coming. Looks like Laura. I’ll pour kaffi for everyone and fix up a plate of cookies.”
She went inside, leaving Mary Katherine to walk out to meet the buggy. Laura parked and eased from the buggy with the care of someone who didn’t want to cause herself further pain. “Joanna said I’d find you here. How goes it?”
“Gut. Why were you looking for me?”
Laura tugged a cane from the buggy seat and started in the opposite direction. “Walk with me.”
They settled into the slow pace of two friends who walked often together and knew each other’s limits. Laura tugged her shawl over her chest with her free hand. “Winter is just around the corner.”
“You didn’t hunt me down to talk about the weather.”
“I came to see if you’d figured things out.”
“What things?”
“Mary Kay.”
She kicked at a rock on the dirt road. “I know I stepped outside the boundaries. I goofed.”
“Goofed is one word for it. The real question is why.” Laura’s tone was tart. “Have you figured out why you did it?”
“To have an adventure I could write about.”
Laura laughed the raspy laugh of a woman who fought allergies on top of painful joints. She stopped in the middle of the road. Mary Katherine paused, waiting for Laura to catch her breath. “You asked.”
“You know better.”
Mary Katherine started walking again, her gaze on the tiny plumes of dust kicked up by her well-worn black sneakers. “If you know so much, you tell me why I did it.”
“I want you to admit it. You know. I know you know.”
This was a ridiculous conversation. Mary Katherine reversed course and headed across the field toward the vegetable garden where Annabelle, Mattie, Sean, and Karen grubbed in the garden. Mattie looked up, waved, and held up an enormous sweet potato. “Groossmammi, look, it’s huge!”
“Indeed. I see a beautiful sweet potato pie in our future!” She cupped her hand over her forehead and squinted in the sun. The children had four five-gallon buckets full of sweet potatoes. A few eggplants and red beets lay in the grass next to the buckets. One last harvest before a November freeze in a week or two. “Good job.”
“Stop stalling.”
“When Tony told me Ezekiel’s dog might be out there, I knew we had to go. I had to tell him.”
“Why not tell Thomas?”
“Because it was Ezekiel.”
“Jah.”
Mary Katherine studied the puffy, dark clouds building on the horizon. They promised rain by nightfall. “And I . . . we . . . we’re . . .”
“We’re not teenagers on our rumspringa. Spit it out.”
“I think we are—were—courting.”
“You think.”
“I’m pretty sure.”
“A woman your age should know.”
“It’s been a hundred years since you courted. You’re one to talk.”
“I’m not the one banished from town.” Laura flung her free hand in the air to punctuate her statement. “You gave up working at the store or the library or the restaurant because of this.”
“I felt strongly.”
“It’s apparent he does too, so what was keeping you apart?”
“Dreams.”
Laura cocked her head, her eyebrows raised. “Come again?”
“My pride. My arrogance. My independence. I wanted what I wanted. It wasn’t what he wanted. He has a right to put his wants first.” Mary Katherine drew a long breath, then another. Hurling accusations that boomeranged and had to be caught took a great deal of energy. “He’s the man. I got wrapped up in wanting something I couldn’t have more than what was truly important. Now it’s too late.”
“The bookstore.”
“He wants a fraa who will work in the restaurant with him. Not a woman who has her nose in a book and her head in the clouds.” She inhaled, the scent of thunderstorm and wet earth in her nostrils. “He’s right to want that, and now I know I want to be his fraa more than I want a silly dream.”
“Sounds like you learned your lesson.”
“Too late.”
“Or maybe not.”
Sometimes Laura’s cryptic responses irritated Mary Katherine’s last nerve. She stifled the urge to shout. “What?”
“Have you considered that maybe Ezekiel learned something from your actions as well?”
Men didn’t learn as fast as women. “I don’t think so. I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him since that day.”
“Maybe you should give him a nudge.”
“Bein
g forward is what got me in trouble in the first place.”
“If you’re truly ready to move on with your life, it’s simply a matter of going about it in the right way. The old way.”
The old way. The smell of hay and kerosene and boy sweat welled up in her. Singings some forty years ago. The heat in the barn and the sweet taste and feel of cool water on a parched throat. The sidelong glances. The held notes of old German hymns and newer English songs. “I’m too old for singings.”
Laura lifted her cane and made swirls as if writing in the air. “Didn’t you and Moses ever exchange notes? I know Eli and I did.”
The old way. A note. A writer should send a note. It made perfect sense. “You’re a good friend, Laura. How will I get it to him, though?” More importantly, what would she say? “I’m banished.”
“Jennie and I can have lunch at the Purple Martin tomorrow. We’ll make Leo watch the store for an hour. It’s gut for him.” Laura’s voice held glee. The woman was a born matchmaker. “I promise not to sneak a peek.”
“Do you think? Really?”
“I think it’s worth a try. Life is short, as you and I know.”
So short.
“I’ll borrow a pencil and paper from Samantha.” Mary Katherine whirled, suddenly in a hurry to get to the house. “Come on, slowpoke, get a move on.”
“Only you would call an old woman with a cane a slowpoke.” Laura cackled. “Go on, don’t worry about me. I’ll get there eventually. Sometime next year.”
Her laugh, like wrapping paper crumpling around a gift, floated behind Mary Katherine as she raced toward the house and toward hope.
THIRTY-SEVEN
The aroma of birthday wafted through the dawdy haus. Mary Katherine snatched a dollop of chocolate frosting and popped it in her mouth. “Mmm. Yum.” Amazing. Something so sweet could be made without sugar. Humming, she wiped her finger on her apron. If one of the kids had done that, she’d swat them with a wooden spoon. Sometimes frosting was made to be stolen.
She stood back and admired her work. Two dozen frosted chocolate cupcakes in neat rows in a plastic container that had a nice carry lid with a handle. The frosting wouldn’t touch the lid and stick. Satisfied, she looked around. The kitchen, on the other hand, needed some work.
A rap on the door told her she’d run out of time. She smoothed her apron and then her kapp. She heaved a breath and the ache blossomed into a flower waiting for sun and water. It stretched toward an endless sky full of possibilities. She closed her eyes for a second. Thank You, Gott.
Another rap at the door, this one louder. She rushed toward the door, then slowed, determined to have this new beginning the right way. She opened the door and smiled.
Ezekiel grinned back. For a man who’d spent the day working in a restaurant, he looked fresh and clean. He must’ve changed his shirt and washed his face. He held a package wrapped in brown paper under one arm. “I got your note.”
“Gut.”
“Laura left it on the counter with the money for her meal. I felt like we were in school again.”
“I’m blessed to have gut friends.”
“We both are.” He looked over her shoulder. “Are you coming out or am I coming in?”
“You’re coming in.” She stood back and inhaled his scent as he passed. Soap with a faint touch of smoked hickory.
“I wanted to give you something.”
“But I wanted to give you something first.” She darted into the living room and whirled. “Sit. Sit.”
“It smells gut in here. Like chocolate.” He sat in the rocking chair they’d brought from the old house. The one Moses used to sit in to listen to her stories. No ache. Only the light of Ezekiel’s questioning smile. “It’s not my birthday.”
She held out the gift, wrapped in a brown paper bag she’d cut up. He took it and held out his. “I guess we had the same idea.”
She set his aside. “You first. Hurry!”
“Fine. Give me a second. You’re as bad as the kinner.” His fingers seemed all thumbs as he tugged at the paper. He slid them under the tape and worked it off.
“Just tear it.”
“You’re worse than the kinner.”
He held up the cookbook. “Fix-It and Enjoy-It Diabetic Cookbook. Stove-top and Oven Recipes—for Everyone! by Phyllis Good.” His eyebrows lifted as he pushed his glasses up his nose and examined the text on the back. “‘Recipes everyone will like, even if they don’t have diabetes.’ I didn’t think it would be possible.”
“It has five hundred recipes. And the ingredients aren’t weird or fancy like some of those cookbooks. Jennie bought it at Dottie’s store.” Her voice didn’t even quiver. No envy. No longing. Just pleasure for her friend who had her dream. “It’s perfect for a restaurant owner who loves to cook and loves food, but also has diabetes. It has everything. Even desserts. Cookies.”
He thumbed through the pages. “Cookies?”
“You should do a little research sometime. Artificial sweeteners that can be heated work really well.” She popped from her chair. “I know it for a fact.”
She rushed to the kitchen and returned with a plate holding two cupcakes. “I guess it is a bit like a birthday. A new way of life. A new way of looking at food. A new start.”
“A new way of looking at people.” He took the plate and set it next to the cookbook on the table that held her notebooks and pencils. He stood. “Especially people like you. You’re kind to do this.”
“I would do it for anyone I care about.” Now her voice trembled. She wasn’t afraid anymore. She was certain. She needed Ezekiel in her life. Dreams were dry crumbs in a person’s mouth without the right person with whom to share them. She swallowed. She wanted his hands to touch her. She wanted his arms to hold her. She wanted him to tell her about his day and ask about hers in the cool dusk of evening at the supper table. “That’s not exactly right. I mean it’s right, but—”
“Open mine.”
Her turn to be all thumbs. She ripped the paper off. “Small Business for Dummies.” Puzzled, she ran her fingers over the yellow-and-black cover. Confined to the country, she was the last person on earth to need this book. “Are you saying I’m a dummy?”
“Nee.” His fingers touched her cheek. “But I do have something to tell you. To ask you.”
“Don’t you want to try the cupcake? It’s sugar free.” Her heart a painful drum in her chest, she brushed his hand away. “I have something to tell you too.”
“Let’s wait to have the cupcakes. They’ll taste better when . . . when I know where I stand. May I go first?”
She wanted to know where he stood—they stood—too. “Jah.”
“I’m retiring from the restaurant business.”
“You’re closing the restaurant?” She let the book fall into her lap. “Because of your kinner? Are they still pressuring you? You’re not old. You like your work. It’s gut work.”
“I’m not closing it. I gave it to Burke.”
The beauty of the idea sank in. “Are you sure?”
“He’ll always be a chaplain. He’s simply found a new mission field. I suggested he change the name to Pulpit and Pie, but he said it will always be the Purple Martin Café.”
“You’re not doing this for me, are you?” The question sounded so grandiose, so full of it, she gasped at her own audacity. “Forget that, I didn’t mean—”
“Not for you, exactly. For my kinner and the little ones. For Kenneth. For the life that’s left in me.” He stepped into her space. “Life is work. Work is life. But we shouldn’t use it to hide from people or because we’re afraid of being hurt.”
Mary Katherine studied the lines on his face. Laugh lines, hurt lines, loss lines. A road map of his life so far. Laugh lines should outrun the others. They should run in all directions. “What about Carina?”
“She’s gone. Burke says she’ll be back now and then. I hope for his sake she will.” His hand gripped hers. “You said you had something to tell me.”
/>
It was hard to think with his fingers around her wrist and his future so wide open. “I don’t know what to say now. I-I-I—”
He sat down and pulled her into his lap, his arms around her shoulders. “Breathe.”
“You’re not helping.” He was so close and warm and alive. Her body turned into a waterfall. She heaved a breath and leaned her head on his shoulder. “What I have to say doesn’t make sense now.”
“Try me.”
“I had it all planned out. I would cook in the restaurant. We could add some sugar-free pies and cakes and puddings to the menu. The cookbook has everything. There are lots of cookbooks too. Jennie looked them up for me at the library. The bookstore is going to carry some of them.”
“The bookstore you wanted.”
“Dottie’s bookstore. I’m content with that. That’s what I wanted to tell you. I don’t need a bookstore. I don’t need anything. Just you.”
“It’s funny. I came to tell you I don’t need a restaurant. I don’t need anything. Just you.”
“Not funny. Perfect.”
“I also came to tell you Freeman has given me permission to enter into business with Dottie.”
The words fell into a heap at her feet, then rearranged themselves so she could comprehend them. “You’re going into the book business?”
“I’m hoping we’re going into the book business.”
“What do you mean?”
“This is the way I explained it to Freeman. He would no longer have to concern himself with a certain widow. I would be responsible for her because she would be my fraa. We would work together with Dottie to make the store a success.”
Breathing was no longer possible. The enormity of his plan, the enormity of his caring, the enormity of his willingness to embrace her wants, made it impossible for Mary Katherine to breathe, let alone talk.
She opened her mouth. No sound came out.
“Mary Katherine Ropp speechless. That has to be a first.” He smiled, his eyebrows lifted in a question. “I hope it’s a gut one.”
Praying the tears would behave themselves, she nodded. She heaved a breath. Get a grip, Mary Katherine. She swallowed. “Dottie agreed?”
“Dottie is over the moon about it.”
