Katie's Way (34 page)

“No.” Her voice shook. “I thought I could never love anyone else because of Eli. Coming here, starting my own business was supposed to take the place of that.”

“And then you met Caleb.” Molly's voice was soft.

“Ja. Somehow, even without my noticing it, I started to care for him. To love him.”

“Well, then—”

Katie shook her head, silencing Molly. “He told me. He is where I was, stuck believing that he can't love anyone else because of what people believe about Mattie. Maybe worse, because he feels she took away his ability to love.” She put her hands over her face. “I don't know how to fight that. And even if I could, I'm to blame for the damage to his shop. He'll never forget that.”

“But it wasn't your fault. Who could know that Melanie's boyfriend was such a crazy person that he thought he could keep her by destroying her friendships?” Molly's small frame shuddered. “He might have gone after any of us.” She glanced around the farmhouse kitchen, as if imagining what could have happened to her home.

“I started the group.” Katie pressed her hands flat on the tabletop. “I invited Melanie. I was responsible.”

“It is wrong to think that.” Molly sounded as firm and solemn as Bishop Mose. “Mike is responsible for what he did. We must forgive him, but it's foolish and wrong to try and take the responsibility. And if Caleb thinks that, I will tell him so myself.”

Katie managed a weak chuckle. “You are very decided all of a sudden, Cousin Molly.”

Molly grinned. “I'm a mammi now. I have to be grown-up.” She stood and held out her hand to Katie. “Will you komm?”

“Ja.” Her energy seemed to have returned. “Denke, Molly.”

They intended to leave right away, but nothing that involved a baby could be accomplished quickly. By the time Molly had settled little Jacob and given Rhoda detailed instructions on caring for him, Katie could have harnessed Daisy several times over. Finally they were off, but it was late morning by the time they reached town.

Katie averted her eyes as they turned into the lane next to the shop, wanting to put off seeing the damage for as long as possible. Too soon they were opening the back door, and she steeled herself as they walked in.

Maybe it wasn't so bad because the picture was already in her mind. Or maybe it was because people were already there, working.

Donna, high on a ladder cleaning the upper shelves, turned to wave at her with a sponge. “Katie, I'm glad you're here. We have about a million questions to ask you. Do you want the same things put back up here? Very few of them were damaged.”

“For goodness' sake, let her catch her breath.” Lisa, in jeans and with her hair covered by a bright silk scarf, put down the quilt she was holding and came to hug Katie. “How are you? Did you get any sleep?”

“I'm fine. But you—” It was hard to speak over the lump in her throat. She glanced around the busy store.

Myra and Rachel were there, along with Naomi and Emma and several other women from the Amish community, including Ruth Weaver, of all people. They'd even brought their spouses and a few teenage children. The Englisch merchants were there, too, along with Paula Schatz and the niece who lived with her. They moved back and forth through Katie's shop and Caleb's shop, everyone helping.

Katie started to say they shouldn't be doing all that work, but the words died in her throat. This was community. Her community. She couldn't deny that.

Myra held an armload of quilted table runners. “It's maybe not as bad as it first looked,” she said. “Joseph and some of the other men are repairing the broken racks. And these table runners were hardly touched at all.”

“The quilts . . .” Katie couldn't finish that question.

“The quilts took the worst of it,” Naomi said, her voice brisk as if to deny emotion. “We've already sorted out those that can't be saved at all. But komm, look what Emma and I are thinking about some of these.”

She led Katie to the display bed, which had taken the worst of the onslaught. Had Mike realized that the quilts were the most valuable items in the shop?

Probably he had, or else he'd just been lucky, from his point of view. He'd wanted to do the most damage possible.

“See this?” Emma disregarded the paint sprayed on part of a postage stamp quilt. “We can cut away the bad part, we're thinking, and rebind it to make a smaller coverlet. And some of them can be remade into place mats and table runners.”

“They are not a total loss,” Naomi added. “We can find something to save on almost all of them.” Her smile was very sweet. “That is quilting, ja? We make something new out of what is left of the old.”

The words seemed to resonate through Katie, but she wasn't sure she was ready to hear them. Still, even if she were closing the shop and going home, it would be wrong not to try with the quilts. Many of them were other people's work—people who deserved to have them made right.

“Ja,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “We will save everything we can.”

“Gut. And look at this.” Naomi pulled a basket from under the bed. “Here are the patches for your new Lancaster Rose quilt. They were not touched at all. You can still make your new quilt.”

Katie took one of the squares in her hand, tears welling in her eyes. “I can still make my new quilt.” She swallowed the lump in her throat, wanting to turn the conversation away from herself. “How is Melanie doing?”

“Not so shocked,” Lisa said. “But still upset. I wanted her to come and help, but she's blaming herself for everything.”

Naomi clucked. “Poor child. At least she should be thanking God she didn't marry that man.”

“I'm afraid she's not ready to see that yet,” Lisa said. “Sometime, maybe.”

“I just don't understand.” Distress sounded in Myra's soft voice. “What would make the man act that way?”

Lisa and Donna exchanged glances.

“It happens,” Lisa said. “Some men think loving gives them the right to control everything the loved one says and does. They don't want her to have any friends or any interests beyond them.”

“That is not love,” Myra said, with surprising firmness for one so gentle. “Loving is wanting the best for that other person, no matter what.”

Lisa smiled. “Myra, I think you are very wise.”

Myra flushed, shaking her head.

This closeness among the women was what she'd hoped for, Katie realized. Just not quite the way she'd visualized it.

She had thought they'd be bonding, Amish and Englisch women, over a quilting frame as they sewed. Instead, they were bonding over the wreckage of her shop. Even if she had to leave Pleasant Valley, she would have done something gut here.

 

 

Caleb
tried to close his ears to the noise made by what seemed like half the community, all crowded into his shop and Katie's, all trying to help. He wanted to escape—to think about what had happened and try to process it all. But he couldn't. For someone who'd considered himself outside the community, he seemed to have almost too many friends, too many brothers and sisters.

He needed to talk to Katie—that much was clear in his mind. But what he had to say to her couldn't be said with an audience.

“We're taking this up to the shop.” Aaron put his shoulder to the end of the blanket chest, while William grasped the other end. “The damage is all on the surface, so it won't take any time to refinish it. We'll be by tomorrow to help with that.”

“I can't take you away from your own work,” Caleb protested, but Aaron was already halfway up the stairs.

“No problem.” His voice echoed down. “We can spare a few days to set things right.”

Set things right.
The words echoed in Caleb's mind. How did you set things right that had gone so far wrong?

A stir went through the workers as folks turned their heads toward the door. Chief Walker had come in. He beckoned to Caleb.

“Just wanted to fill you and Katie in on what's happening.” He headed through the archway.

Caleb had no choice but to follow. He needed to see Katie, but not like this, under the eyes of the community, brought together by the law.

Chief Walker, looking a bit taken aback by the crowd that thronged Katie's shop, ushered the two of them into the back hallway. As if by unspoken agreement, the other women clustered toward the front of the store or into the back room.

Katie was pale, her eyes shadowed, probably by a combination of a sleepless night and the devastation that had hit her. She tried to smile, and pain gripped Caleb's chest at the sight.

“Well, now, I thought I should bring you folks up to date on the situation. Mike Franklin has been moved to the county jail, so you don't have to worry about him.”

“Is he all right?” Katie's voice was soft.

For an instant Chief Walker looked surprised, but Caleb wasn't. That's the kind of woman Katie was, always concerned about others.

Chief Walker nodded. “A public defender . . . a lawyer . . . has been appointed to help him.”

“And Melanie?” she persisted. “She is not in trouble with the law, is she?”

“No, no. Poor girl, she's had enough to cope with. We've taken a statement from her, but I don't think we'll have to bother her anymore. I understand her parents are coming to bring her home with them.”

Katie took a deep breath. If anything, the strain on her face deepened. Was she thinking that her parents would want to do the same?

“Anyway, Mike has decided to plead guilty in exchange for a lighter sentence.” Chief Walker shook his head. “Seems he got it into his head that you ladies were influencing Melanie against him, so he decided to get back at you, figuring we'd blame it on the usual teenage vandalism.”

“What did he think he would gain by such a thing?” Caleb could only shake his head.

“Yeah, well, I know you folks will forgive him, but as for understanding what made his mind work that way . . .” Chief Walker shrugged. “It's beyond me.” He glanced from Katie to Caleb. “Glad to see you're getting the help you need, but it's what I'd expect. Pleasant Valley's a good place to live.”

He nodded and turned away, leaving Caleb alone with Katie for a moment, at least.

“The chief is right, you know,” he said, trying to find his way toward what he really wanted to say. “This is a gut place to live. I hope . . . Well, I hope this doesn't change your mind about staying here.”

Katie didn't respond. She just stood there, looking a little lost. Then she shook her head. “I don't know,” she said, her words so soft he could barely hear them. “I just don't know.”

Before he could say more, she'd walked off toward the women.

He stood looking after her, afraid of what his face must reveal at the thought of Katie going away. He'd told her he didn't have a heart left to love again. So what was it that seemed to be breaking so painfully in his chest?

“Caleb.”

He blinked, hardly able to believe that Mattie Weaver's mother was seeking him out.

“Ruth . . . I didn't realize you were here helping.” Helping Katie, of course. Neither she nor Ephraim had been in his shop since Mattie had left.

Ruth didn't respond to that. Instead, she nodded toward Katie, who was now surrounded by the other women. “You are not going to let her go away, are you?”

For a moment he could only stare at Ruth, not certain he'd heard her right. “I can't tell Katie what to do.”

Ruth came closer, putting her hand on his arm and looking up at him. There were lines on her face . . . lines of sorrow and pain. She'd aged twenty years since her daughter had run away, he thought.

“You can tell her what you feel,” Ruth said softly. “You must not let what happened with Mattie keep you from loving someone else.”

He should not talk to Mattie's mother, of all people, about this. “I don't think . . .”

“Hush.” She shook his arm, her fingers tight. “Listen to me, Caleb Brand. I know full well that you are not the father of Mattie's little boy.”

“You know?” His feelings seemed to be tumbling around inside him. “How can you know?”

Ruth's thin lips tightened. “Ephraim is unforgiving. But I am not.” Tears shone suddenly in her eyes. “We write now. She sends me pictures of her little Jamie . . . so handsome and smart he is. If only I could hold him in my arms—” She stopped, as if she could not say more.

“Mattie ...” Caleb found he could say her name without bitterness. “Is she happy?”

“Ja, I think so. She is married to Jamie's father, and they live in Ohio, where he works.”

“I'm glad for her.” He
was
glad. Mattie had found whatever it was she'd been looking for.

“You need to be glad for you.” Ruth shook his arm again. “Half the township knows that you are in love with Katie Miller. Don't let her go away. If it would help you for me to tell the church—”

“No, no.” He might not be sure of anything else, but he knew that he could not subject Ruth to more pain. “I don't want that.”

Ruth gave the slightest possible smile. “Then live your life, Caleb. Don't waste it.” She spun and was gone as quickly as she'd appeared, leaving him standing there feeling oddly disoriented. His world had turned upside down in the past twenty-four hours, and he wasn't sure how to go about righting it.