“I know. I still worry about you. Dad and I love you.”
“I know. And I love you, too. That’s one of the reasons I’m glad I’ll be here in Walnut Creek. It will be nice to see you both more often. I also have a really good group of friends here. I want to live near them. The rest of the Eight feel the same way.”
Her mother’s expression softened. “They were good friends to you. Good kids, too.”
“We’re all adults now, Mom.”
“I know that. It’s just that when I think of the Eight, I can’t help but remember the way you all would run around together.” Her lips twitched. “My goodness. You all were so loud! Always laughing. Always in a hurry. Dad used to call you guys a pack of hounds. Practically inseparable.”
That comment should’ve made her feel better. Instead, it only served to remind her that they’d drifted apart . . . and they’d suffered for it, too. Especially Andy.
Not wanting to start crying again, she cleared her throat. “See? Relationships like that don’t come along more than once in a lifetime. They need to be nurtured, don’t you think?”
“Dear, you’re only twenty-four. You’ve got years and years to make more really good friends.”
“I made new friends in college and in Chagrin Falls, but they weren’t the same as the Eight.”
“Marie . . .”
Hating that her mother was likely to launch into a well-meaning but misguided lecture, Marie hardened her voice. “Mom, I don’t want to make more new, good friends. I want to work on keeping the ones that I have.”
Her mother’s expression softened. “I’m not saying that you shouldn’t all still be friends, Marie. It’s just that sometimes you have to accept the fact that people change and they choose their own path. Just because they were a part of your childhood doesn’t mean they need to be a part of the rest of your life.”
Before she could interrupt, her mother continued. “Then, too, there’s the fact that while you might be grown up, none of you have married yet. Things change when you get married.”
“I know that.”
A pair of lines formed in between her mother’s brows. “Then there’s the fact that some of you simply don’t have anything in common anymore. You’ve each gone down your own paths.”
“We do, though. We talked a lot at Andy’s funeral.”
Her voice gentled. “Marie, I’m very sorry about Andy. He was a wonderful person. I know you’re heartbroken about his death. Dad and I have been keeping his parents and Tricia in our prayers. But I’m also talking about how some of those ah, adults, now live a completely different lifestyle from you.”
“Because some of the Eight are Amish?”
“Well, yes.” Her gaze hardened. “And don’t go acting like it doesn’t matter. It does. If your Amish friends haven’t been baptized yet, they soon will be. Then their paths will be set. I know it’s hard, but it’s a fact of life. Sometimes childhood friendships are best left as good memories.”
She shook her head. “Mom, as much as it makes me feel like I’m sixteen again, I’m going to have to tell you that you don’t understand.”
Her mom chuckled. “I actually do recall you telling me that a time or two, back in the day.”
“And?”
“And, at the risk of repeating what I used to tell you, I’m going to have to say that I might understand more than you think.”
“I love you, Mom.” She reached out and gently squeezed her mother’s hand, hoping the words and the gesture would ease her obstinate tone.
After giving her a squeeze back, her mother dropped her hand. “I love you, too, Marie. And unlike when you were sixteen, you’re a grown woman now. I’ll try to keep my opinions to a minimum.”
“Thanks.”
Seeming to come to grips with herself, her mother said, “All right then. I told your father I wouldn’t be home until close to seven. That means we’ve got all afternoon to turn this place into a little home for you. What do you want to do first?”
“Can we work on my living room? I think I need something to store things in. And maybe a new lamp.”
“I saw some cute shelving units we can put together over at the Walmart in Millersburg. Want to head over there?”
Before her mother reached for her purse, Marie flung her arms around her. “Thanks, Mom.”
Her mom wrapped her arms around her, too. “For what?”
“For not arguing with me.”
After pressing her lips to her brow, her mother started chuckling. “You might know the Eight the best, but I know you pretty well, too. And you always were as stubborn as all get out.”
Thinking that her stubbornness might finally get John B. to notice her, Marie smiled. After all, that was what she was counting on.
TWO
Katie continued, her eyes bright with humor. “So there we were, all traipsing through the woods at the back of the Kurtz house, when Will and John B. started pointing to the creek that ran along the ravine on the edge of the property. John B. told us all that just the day before he saw four snakes sunning along the banks. So, of course, we had to head down there to catch a glimpse of them. As you might imagine, it wasn’t our best idea.”
“We should feel on top of the world,” Will said to John B. with a grin as they walked down Maple Street. “Our team got another trailer built today.”
John B. smiled. “Jah, we did. It’s a beauty, too.”
“I couldn’t believe it when I heard that the buyer wanted it painted yellow and black, but I think it turned out right nice.”
John still thought it looked like an overgrown bumblebee, but it was eye-catching, he’d give it that. “Mr. Kerrigan said it’s going to some famous country western singer. I guess when he’s not touring the country being rich and famous, he wants to pull his little trailer and go camping in style.”
“And why wouldn’t he? They’re great little trailers.”
“That they are.” John hadn’t ever imagined that he’d enjoy working in a camper factory, but he surely did. Part of the reason was that it was family owned. Mr. Kerrigan was a good man who always put his faith, his wife, and children first. He expected his employees to do the same.
That meant that they started early but always stopped for the day at four o’clock during the week and at noon on Saturdays. No one was ever expected to work on Sundays, not even when some of their more demanding customers offered to pay extra for a rush job.
Furthermore, the little trailers were so popular because each one was custom-built. Some of their customers were famous; some lived nearby. The vast majority of them, however, were just regular men and women who enjoyed the outdoors. They called Mr. Kerrigan and placed their orders from all over the country, then came into Walnut Creek when their trailer was done.
When they arrived, Mr. Kerrigan would take them into the warehouse so they could meet all of the men and women who had worked on it. That made the job even more special to John. He liked the idea of looking at their customers in the eye.
When he’d first gotten hired, John B. had thought maybe he’d work there only until something better came along. Now he was of the mind that there wasn’t anyplace better for him. Will, who’d just started working there eight months ago, had quickly come to the same conclusion.
Whenever they worked the same days, they walked home together, sometimes even stopping for an early supper along the way. John, who had always been on the quiet side, liked how Will was always full of news and didn’t mind sharing it.
“So, guess what I learned last night?” Will asked when they got to the top of the ridge and turned left into town. “Kendra Troyer is moving here next month.”
“Really? I’m surprised.” Though Kendra wasn’t technically a part of the Eight, she might as well have been. They all knew her well. Especially him, since her family was also New Order Amish.
“Are ya? Huh. Did you not get a chance to speak with her at the funeral?”
“Nee, but it was crowded. Un
like you, I stayed outside as much as possible.”
“You missed a good spread. Those meatballs were tasty.”
He chuckled. “Only you would be eating well at Andy’s funeral.”
“And only you would have gone home hungry in order to avoid half of Walnut Creek.”
“True.” Unlike himself, Will was never bothered by crowds and noise. He could work a room like an experienced politician. Realizing that he didn’t sound pleased, he quickly added, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad Kendra’s coming back. I was just surprised. She seemed real settled in Columbus.”
As was his way, Will thought about that for a good block before replying. “Maybe she was . . . or maybe not. She had a tough time about four years ago, remember?”
“I remember.”
Kendra had gotten real sick her freshman year. So sick she’d had to quit college. Then John B. had heard that she was so disappointed that she’d started drinking. That bad habit had soon gotten out of control and had led her down a dark path. She’d ended up getting help for that, too.
He’d written her a couple of letters, but she’d never responded. He’d felt helpless but hadn’t known what else he could do, not without any encouragement from her. “We’ll have to make sure she gets moved in okay,” he said, glad he could finally be of some use to her. “Kendra’s parents were never a lot of help.”
“That’s one way of saying it. One could also say that they were the root of her problems.” Frowning, he continued. “Ever since I can remember, they were distant.”
“Even on their best days,” John agreed, remembering how Kendra was always the last to be picked up when they were little, and they were never around once she got old enough to look after herself.
“My mamm once said Mr. and Mrs. Troyer were the complete opposite of Marie’s parents. Now they were doting.”
Unable to help himself, he smiled. “Jah, they were.”
“It used to drive Kendra crazy, the way Mr. and Mrs. Hartman acted like the sun rose and set on Marie.”
Before he could stop himself, John blurted, “Well, she was pretty special, even when she was just a little thing.”
Will laughed. “Are you ever going to do anything about what’s been brewing between the two of you?”
With anyone else, John would’ve pretended he didn’t know what he was talking about. “Nee.”
“Why not?”
They were almost at the pizza place that had just opened up. “She’s English. I’m not.”
Marie Hartman was also a lot of other things. Beautiful. Vibrant. Rich. Popular with most everyone. What could a man like him ever offer her?
“You haven’t joined the church yet.”
“I know. But I intend to.”
“But you haven’t . . .”
John shook his head, not wanting to go down that path, not even with Will. “Whether I’ve been baptized in the church or not ain’t the point. Marie most likely has a boyfriend.” From the time she was fifteen or so, he couldn’t ever remember her not having some guy by her side.
“I know for a fact that she doesn’t . . . and that she is living in one of those run-down houses near Folsom Road.”
Everything inside of him froze. “What? Who’s she living there with?”
“No one.” Will raised his eyebrows as they walked into the restaurant.
John B. felt himself fuming as he digested the news. That unexpected flare in temper made him keep his mouth shut while the hostess seated them.
Only after they had ordered a large pizza with pepperoni, mushrooms, and peppers did he feel like he had himself under control enough to talk about Marie again.
“Folsom Road ain’t the place for Marie. It’s dangerous around there. Doesn’t she know that?”
“Well—”
“And, come to think of it, why is she even there in the first place?” Though Will opened his mouth to speak, John kept on talking. “I thought her parents looked out for her. They certainly did when she was in high school. Don’t you remember when they wouldn’t let her go camping with us?”
Will nodded. “Marie was real upset.”
Marie had started crying so hard, he’d had to pull her into his arms and hug her tight.
Feeling even more frustrated, he threw out a hand. “What has happened since then? They should’ve forbidden her to move there. She’s going to get hurt. Then what—” He stopped himself just in time from revealing far too much about his secret feelings for her.
Looking bemused, Will took a long sip of his Sprite. “John, I’m thinkin’ her parents knew better than to forbid Marie to do anything. Because she likely told them she was too old to be told what to do.”
“What about Logan? I thought they were close.”
“They are, but I never thought she was any closer to Logan than the rest of us.”
“But still, Logan should’ve said something.”
“Maybe he did and she didn’t listen.” Leaning back against the bright red pleather, he added, “I think you should go check on her, John B. She might listen to you.”
“She might.” Thinking about the fact that she was a grown woman with a good job and now her own home, he started thinking that Will might be right. Marie might not appreciate him sharing his opinions about how she should run her life. “Or she might not.”
Will stared at him intently. “Didn’t Andy’s death teach you anything?” he asked after the server deposited their pizza in the middle of the table. “Stop stalling, John B. Even if you don’t think she and you are ever going to be a couple, you’re her friend. Maybe her best one.”
All of the reasons he had to stay away from Marie fell away. Will was right. It was time to stop stalling. “You know what? I think I might stop by her haus real soon.”
Will grinned. “Oh yeah? How soon?”
Realizing Will was practically daring him, John gathered his courage. “Tomorrow afternoon. I’m going to bring her a chocolate cake from Mount Hope when I go talk to her about her safety.”
“Oh, you’re going whole hog, bringing a kacha to sweeten your cause.”
“I ain’t ashamed to use bribery. Marie has a much kinder disposition when she is eating chocolate.”
“That cake should at least get you in the door and encourage her to listen to you.”
“Not at first. But Marie has always been pretty practical. She’ll come around to my way of thinking . . . eventually.”
Pulling off the first slice of pizza, Will chuckled. “For once, I’m real glad I’m working Monday morning. I can’t wait to hear how this visit turns out.”
John B. groaned as he set his own piece on the plate in front of him. Will had just played him well. Now he had no choice but to go see Marie on Saturday, after he drove his buggy all the way over to Mount Hope tonight to place the order and then again tomorrow to pick up Marie’s favorite chocolate four-layer cake with coconut filling.
Just thinking about being alone with her in her home made his cheeks heat with embarrassment. He’d spent many a night going to sleep just imagining such a thing.
When Will laughed again, John glared. “You’d better not tell anyone about me calling on Marie.”
“Don’t worry, buddy. From the way you’re already blushing, everyone’s gonna already know.”
THREE
“Down we went. All eight of us descended in some kind of haphazard line, with John B. in the front with none other than Marie right beside him.” Katie paused. “I still canna figure that out.”
“I liked snakes back then!” Marie called out.
“Huh,” Katie said, “and here I always thought it was because you liked something else.”
It was a fact. She had way too many cookbooks. Marie had unpacked only half of them and was already out of space in the hutch she’d bought to stand along the back wall of the kitchen.
Taking another sip of coffee that she shouldn’t be drinking at six at night, Marie knew what she should do. She needed to get rid of ten
or twelve. But even thinking about that made her wince.
“Marie, you are being ridiculous,” she chided herself out loud. “Think of E.A. She’d tell you to stop being so silly and learn to live with less.”
But even thinking of Elizabeth Anne’s plain and simple lifestyle didn’t make much of an impression on her love of the cookbooks.
Or for most of the things in her life, she supposed. She liked shoes and purses and clothes and coffee cups. No, there really wasn’t anything either “plain” or “simple” about her. E.A. would probably tease Marie for even imagining she could be like her.
Thirty minutes later when the doorbell rang, Marie couldn’t reach the door fast enough. Anything would be better than continuing this charade of sorting books.
But she realized she was wrong when she opened the door. Because there was John B., holding a white cardboard bakery box.
“What are you doing here?” Nothing would have surprised her more, except maybe if both of her parents had shown up in jeans and said they wanted to go for a hike.
His half-smile slowly faded as the seconds passed. “I’m sorry, Marie. Is this a bad time?”
“No.” Finally getting out of her fog, she shook her head and ushered him in. “I mean, of course not, John. Come inside.”
After entering her tiny foyer, she closed the door behind him and turned the dead bolt. She startled as he said, “I brought you a cake.”
Reaching for it, she read the stamp on the top of the white box. “It’s from Mount Hope Bakery.”
“Chocolate with coconut filling,” he said, humor lighting his expression.
She almost gasped. Okay, maybe she actually did. “John, that’s my favorite.” What she almost added but didn’t was that she knew from experience that it wasn’t an easy cake to get.
The ladies at Mt. Hope made a lot of things daily. Cinnamon rolls, snickerdoodle cookies, apple and cherry pies, even plain chocolate cakes. But this one? It had to be special ordered.
But the difficulties didn’t end there. One couldn’t simply pick up the phone and place an order. Mt. Hope Bakery was Amish owned, so no one there had anything to do with the phone or the computer. That meant in order to ask for this cake, one had to stop by the bakery and place the order in person. Then one was at the ladies’ mercy for when they would make it. Marie knew this from experience. The last time she’d ordered one, she’d been dismayed to learn that they had two wedding cakes on their schedule and wouldn’t have time to make “her” cake for at least two weeks.
The Patient One Page 2
