Between You and Me

by Susan Wiggs

  “Oh, honey. Confused?”

  “Okay, excited. Maybe . . . What? Afraid. Not physically afraid, of course. But . . . you know, afraid. As in, apprehensive.”

  “Sounds like the start of something to me.”

  “The start of what?” She used the back of her hand to brush a lock of hair off her cheek.

  “Falling in love.”

  “I’m not—”

  “That, my friend, is a classic symptom.”

  “I have no symptoms.”

  “Denial is a symptom.”

  “Bite me. Why did I think talking to you would be a good idea?”

  Avoiding Leroy’s gaze, she consulted the recipe and set two pie plates in the middle of the counter, sprinkling the bottoms with a pinch of cornmeal, a technique she recalled from working alongside Juanita in the kitchen when she was young. Baking was an unlikely hobby for Reese, but she had decided it would be good for her mental health. It forced her to slow down and take her time, to be precise but creative, to focus on the task at hand and nothing else. She planned to take one of the pies to Jonah, who made no secret of feeling homesick.

  Handling the dough as gently as possible, she transferred each bottom crust to a pie pan. The soft dough sank into place. She filled the shells with a mixture of blackberries and raspberries, flavored with sugar and almond extract, and the all-important tapioca powder so it would thicken perfectly during the baking.

  Leroy watched her work, his mouth set in a bemused expression.

  “What?” She dotted the berries with butter.

  “You’re good with your hands.”

  “My parents say that’s going to make me a fine surgeon one day.”

  “You’re already great at making pies.”

  She carefully added the top crust to each pie, using a scalpel to create several vent holes. Then she got out her vintage fluter to crimp the edges. A brush with egg wash, a sprinkle of coarse sugar on top, and her creations were ready for the oven.

  “An hour in the oven, and an hour on the windowsill,” she said in Spanish. Then she repeated it in English. “That’s what Juanita used to say. The most common error a person tends to commit in pie making is to fail to let it cool in fresh air. If you cut into it straight out of the oven, the juice runs everywhere. People have no patience when it comes to pies.”

  She felt his scrutiny on her as they worked together tidying the kitchen. “What?”

  “So about that kiss,” he said.

  “I’ve thought about it and concluded that it didn’t mean anything.”

  “Don’t be daft.”

  “To us. It didn’t mean anything about Caleb and me specifically. I’m convinced that he was totally overwhelmed by being in the ocean for the first time. He would have kissed anyone in that moment. It was like New Year’s Eve, or when the Phillies won the pennant—you just grab whoever’s handy and kiss them.”

  “In that case, remind me to take Cheryl to the shore on our next date. So far, she is the opposite of excited.”

  “I thought you got lucky the other night.”

  “I tried, but she said she was too tired from the dancing.”

  “I’m sorry. Gosh, Leroy, I’ve been so preoccupied with this Caleb thing that I haven’t been keeping up with your love life.”

  “See, I was right. It’s a thing.”

  She dusted the flour from her hands. “You think?”

  “Yes, I do. And believe me, it’s a lot more interesting than my love life.” He checked his watch. “Gotta go,” he said. “Save me a piece of pie.”

  A couple of hours later, the pies were resting on the windowsill in all their golden-baked glory. Reese had showered and primped and spent far too long deciding what to wear, changing her mind, trying things on, then discarding them.

  “This is nuts,” she finally muttered to herself. “It’s not the freshman formal. It’s not even a date. It’s just . . .” Caleb Stoltz. He occupied all available real estate in her brain.

  She grabbed a blue A-line dress and paired it with espadrilles and a white cotton cardigan. “Whatever,” she said, frowning at herself in the mirror and fluffing out her hair. She resisted the temptation to put on more makeup. She did have a nice pendant she always wore with this dress. It was a dazzling free-form design with a light-catching tourmaline stone in a setting of white gold. It had been a graduation gift from her grandmother, and it looked nice against the plain blue dress—not too blingy, but blingy enough to be noticed.

  She enjoyed being noticed by Caleb Stoltz.

  There. She admitted it.

  She frowned into the mirror. Too much sparkle for an Amish guy?

  Then she turned away. Screw it. She wasn’t Amish. And that, she realized, was the reason her attraction to him was so nonsensical. She and Caleb Stoltz came from completely different worlds. They never would have met if not for the horror that had befallen Jonah. Their lives had intersected for the briefest span of time. Before long, they would each go their separate ways, never to meet again.

  “That’s depressing,” she said aloud.

  That’s reality, she told herself. He had his rural community and the kids, his farm and the horse farm where he worked. She had the almighty Match and years of work in front of her. Their lives were going to veer off in different directions, and she doubted their paths would ever cross again.

  Maybe that was the reason she felt so different around him. He made her feel brave, and in a state of wonder.

  It was oddly liberating to be with a guy who had no stake in her future and no role in her life. Nothing mattered but the relationship.

  Of course, there was a catch, she told herself. And the catch was, their relationship would never work. It was unsustainable. And oh so fragile. It could shatter at the slightest upset and ruin them both.

  Hannah had hinted that there was a woman back in Middle Grove who was sweet on Caleb—Rebecca Zook. Something about exchanging a clock and an embroidered cloth. Was Caleb in on those plans? Did they have an understanding? Hannah hadn’t said.

  Reese knew she should ask him. If she did, he’d tell her the truth, because he didn’t lie. But she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the truth from him.

  12

  Jonah was in his room when Reese and Caleb arrived at the hospital. Reese carried one of the berry pies loosely covered by a tea towel, feeling an undeniable pride of accomplishment.

  The first bed in the room was empty, though the covers were mussed, indicating that the bed now had an occupant.

  Jonah was so deeply absorbed in the pages of a book that he didn’t move a muscle when they walked into the room. She and Caleb exchanged a glance.

  “What is Harry Potter up to these days?” Caleb asked, leaning down to kiss the top of the boy’s head.

  Jonah nearly dropped the thick book onto the rolling tray in front of him. “Oh! I didn’t hear you come in. I’m reading something else now—a story called To Kill a Mockingbird. It’s about a man defending a black man. The whole town thinks he did a terrible thing, and I can’t wait to get to the end and see if he really did.”

  “That’s a wonderful book,” Reese said. “I’m impressed that you’re reading it at such a young age.”

  “The girl telling the story, she’s just a kid like me. Her daddy, he’s a lawyer, like I want to be one day.”

  “An Amish lawyer?” asked Reese. “Can such things be?”

  Caleb grinned and rumpled his nephew’s hair. “Not according to Ordnung. But there’s a first time for everything.”

  Watching the two of them together, Reese felt a rush of affection. Their bond was both powerful and effortless. Ever since the kiss and the beach emergency, she’d been more sensitized, somehow, her heart yearning for connection with friends and family. She indicated the bed closer to the door. “Looks like you have a new roommate.”

  Jonah nodded. “A boy who had an operation. He mostly slept all day, but he seems nice enough.”

  Caleb lifted the plastic dome on
Jonah’s dinner tray. “You weren’t hungry?” he asked.

  Jonah cut his gaze away. “I know it’s wasteful, but the food doesn’t always taste so good.” He sighed. “I miss Miriam Hauber’s roast chicken.”

  “I’ll be sure she brings it over for your homecoming. But while you’re here, you have to eat so you can get stronger.”

  The boy looked bereft. “I want to go home now.”

  “We all want that, little man.”

  “When?”

  “When the doctors say.”

  Jonah looked over at Reese, and his round, troubled eyes implored her. “When?” he asked again.

  She braced herself for a storm like the last one. She could see Jonah struggling, his features strained by emotions he scarcely understood, and she ached for him. “I’m not the doctor who gets to say.” She stepped to the opposite side of the bed. “But tonight, there’s a bit of good news.” She set aside the dinner tray and placed her parcel on the rolling table. “I have a new superpower,” she announced and unveiled the pie. It was baked to perfection, the top crust beautifully browned, the sugar crystals glistening on the surface.

  A big smile bloomed on Jonah’s face. “That looks like a most wonderful pie, Reese.”

  “I hope so. I mean, I hope it tastes as good as it looks and smells. You see, the thing about a pie is that you don’t know if it’s wonderful or not until you serve it. There’s no sneaky way to have a taste without cutting into it.”

  “Then we’d better have a slice right this minute,” Caleb said. “I brought something too. Ice cream, and we didn’t even have to get out the hand crank to make it.” He set a pint of gourmet vanilla next to the pie.

  Reese served them each a slice on paper plates they’d brought from home, and Caleb added a scoop of ice cream. Jonah watched her every move as she placed his plate in front of him. “Go ahead,” she said. “Tell me how I did.”

  He scooped up a spoonful and wolfed it down. As he leaned back against the bank of pillows, Reese saw a flare of mischief in Jonah’s eyes—a good sign. With a smile on his face, he declared, “You do have a new superpower, Reese.”

  “He’s right,” Caleb said, making short work of his dessert. “It’s delicious. Where did you learn to bake a pie like this?”

  “From my—from Juanita. She lived with us when I was growing up. Took care of me while my mother and father were at work. She’s an incredible cook.”

  The occupant of the other bed came in and there were hasty introductions—Dane Rasmussen and his parents and sister. “I had an operation yesterday,” said Dane, who looked to be about Jonah’s age. “They took out my appendix.”

  “He was really brave,” said his mom.

  The sister sniffed. “Huh. He was fast asleep the whole time.”

  “Any dietary restrictions?” asked Reese. “We have homemade pie. And there’s a bit of ice cream left over.”

  Dane’s face lit up. “It looks really good.”

  “It’s the best pie ever,” Jonah said, and Reese felt the most absurd sense of accomplishment.

  She and Caleb served up the rest of the pie to the neighbors, which they accepted gratefully. “You’re right,” Dane said to Jonah. “Your mom makes the best pie ever.”

  “Reese isn’t my mom,” Jonah said, but he spoke quietly and no one but Reese seemed to hear.

  The Rasmussens appeared to be the ideal family, the parents openly affectionate with their kids and with each other. Watching them together, Reese wondered if she would ever find that in her life—a partner she loved, kids to raise together. That ineffable, unassailable feeling of belonging.

  From where she was at this point in her career, she couldn’t imagine it. Putting it all together seemed so far out of reach as to be unattainable. And she was likely idealizing the family, anyway. The parents probably got on each other’s nerves and didn’t have sex. The kids squabbled about nothing and made messes wherever they went. Mrs. Rasmussen fantasized about the days when she was single and free to pursue a career.

  Lost in thought, Reese was taken by surprise when a group arrived for rounds. The attending, Dr. Jimenez, had only two third-years with him this time. “Jonah’s progress has been faster than anticipated,” he reported to Caleb.

  The students pulled the curtain that separated the beds and earnestly offered their evaluations.

  “When can he go home?” Caleb asked after they’d finished.

  “There’s a team meeting tomorrow,” said Dr. Jimenez, consulting his tablet. “They’ll be discussing the discharge plan. The recommendation will be for him to go to a skilled nursing facility for a period of rehab and training.”

  “Is it mandatory?” Caleb asked.

  “Nothing is mandatory. The plan is a recommendation for what’s best for Jonah.”

  “And sometimes that’s a matter of opinion,” Caleb said.

  Jimenez studied him for a long moment, his expression inscrutable. Reese knew Jimenez was one of those doctors who tended to look askance at patients who questioned him. “Sometimes,” he said. “Other times, it’s a matter of medical fact.”

  “I want what’s best for Jonah,” Caleb said. Unlike students who had been reduced to rubble by Jimenez’s glare, he seemed perfectly at ease with the conversation.

  “Sounds as if we all want the same successful outcome.” He paused. “Jonah’s going to do great. Everyone on the care team has a lot of confidence in him.”

  “Did you hear that?” asked Caleb after they left. “You’re going to do great. If the head doctor says so, then it must be true.”

  “What’s a facility?” Jonah asked.

  “That’s the place you’ll go after you leave the hospital,” Reese said.

  “And didn’t you ask me that yesterday?” Caleb opened the nightstand drawer. “Here’s the information about the different places. Did you take a look at it?”

  Jonah shook his head. “Atticus Finch and Harry Potter are more interesting.”

  “There are two that specialize in prosthetics.” Caleb opened one of the brochures. “This one—Northwoods Lodge—is closer to my work at Grantham Farm. Or there’s this one—it’s part of the hospital. You would stay nearby, but in a different building.”

  “Will I still get my meals on a tray and have books and TV?” Jonah looked at Reese.

  “You can read all you want, and I imagine there’s TV time,” she said. “No more room service, though. When you’re in rehab, they like you to go to the cafeteria. Have you ever eaten in a cafeteria?”

  “No, but I bet I’d like it.”

  “I’ll still bring you pie.”

  He paged through the glossy brochures, which depicted valiantly smiling patients and earnest therapists, seemingly bonding and making progress. “There’s a swimming pool?” he asked, noticing one of the pictures.

  “Looks that way,” Caleb said.

  “I’ve never been in a swimming pool.”

  “It’s super fun,” said Reese. “Are you a good swimmer?”

  He glowered at his bandaged stump. “I used to be. How would I ever swim with only one arm?”

  “In a circle,” Caleb said simply.

  “Hey.” Jonah’s scowl deepened. Reese stifled a snicker.

  “Hey, yourself. Tell you what, little man. Suppose we visit both places and see which one you like better,” Caleb suggested.

  “That’s a good idea,” said Jonah. “I know something better, though. What if I just come home?”

  “You could do that. The hospital people said going home would be harder because you won’t get as much help as you would from a rehab place.”

  “Most people make really fast progress at those places,” said Reese. “There’s a whole staff who organize your stay around helping you get better.”

  Jonah pushed the table with the brochures away. He looked down at his bandaged arm for several seconds. “I want to get better,” he said in a low voice.

  “You will.” Caleb touched his shoulder. “I aim to ma
ke sure of that.”

  “Why do they have to call it a stump?” Jonah asked, still staring at the bandage.

  “You can call it anything you want,” said Reese.

  He looked up at her, his eyes brightening just a shade. “I can? Like what?”

  “Like . . . I don’t know. Atticus Finch?”

  A smile glimmered. “Maybe not that.”

  “Jonah’s amazing appendage? The titanium titan?”

  He shook his head, still smiling. “Nah.”

  “Tell you what. You have a think on it and let me know what you come up with.”

  “I will.” He reached for the book on his table.

  Caleb adjusted his covers and said something in German.

  “Yah, okay,” Jonah said. “I’ll see you later.”

  As they walked to the elevator, Reese looked up at Caleb. “I just love that little guy,” she blurted out. Then she caught her breath, completely surprised at herself. And then again, not surprised. Jonah was incredibly lovable—funny and sweet and vulnerable, with a wide-eyed way of looking at the world that never failed to give her spirits a boost.

  “Me too,” Caleb said easily. They stepped into the elevator together.

  “He’s so smart,” said Reese. “I mean, reading To Kill a Mockingbird at his age.”

  “Jonah’s always sticking up for other kids if he thinks an injustice is being done. Sometimes I wonder if it stems from what happened to his parents. He was so young when it occurred, but I never kept the truth from him.”

  “He’s really special, Caleb. You’re lucky to have him in your life.” She understood why he had returned to Middle Grove even though he’d planned a different path for himself.

  “That I am. So about tonight.”

  “Yes? What about tonight?”

  “There’s going to be a full moon. And I have a plan. If you’re free, that is.”

  Reese felt a flutter of anticipation. Then the flutter was crushed by the hard reality of the medical licensing exam, which was staring her in the face. She needed to know the material cold, and she wasn’t there yet. Her study group was holding a special session tonight for that purpose. She looked up at Caleb to explain this to him. Instead, what she heard herself say was “What do you have in mind?”