Leaving Lancaster (12 page)

“A small, open one.”

Her eyes widened. “Sometimes called a courting buggy.”

“Courting, as in next step wedding bells?”

“Yes, but Amish people of all ages use them, not just young couples looking to get married.”

“I hope he didn't get the wrong impression.” But I had been profuse when thanking him, and I'd accepted his daughter's clothes.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Esther entered the kitchen and found Greta at the sink rinsing carrots. “Is Mamm still napping?” Esther asked.

Using her fingers as a strainer, Greta drained the water. “I haven't heard a peep from her.”

“Should I go check to make sure she hasn't gotten up and fallen? But I wouldn't want to wake her.”

“Just between you and me, Anna often snoozes before dinner.” Greta set to work scrubbing a carrot. “She's had an exciting day.”

“Yes, we all have.” Staying with Mamm was
ferhoodling
Esther's brain, not to mention coping with her sisters-in-law, particularly Mary Ann.

Listening to Greta open a drawer to extract a knife, Esther's thoughts scuttled like a squirrel up a hickory tree. “I need to ask Holly the date of our return tickets,” she said. “I've grown compliant, allowing her to make our travel decisions. Has she come home yet?”

“No, I think she's still at Beth's house.” Greta sliced the carrots on a wooden board.

“I'm not about to go running over to Beth's,” Esther said, hearing her volume intensify.

Greta glanced up, her face registering concern. “Maybe Isaac could run ya over there in the buggy if it's too far to walk.”

“No, thank you. I'd rather wait.”

Greta arranged the carrot sticks on a ceramic platter Esther remembered from childhood. She imagined Beth in this room comforting Mamm and in subtle ways turning her against Esther. Had Beth assisted Mamm when writing letters to Esther? Had Beth bought the stamps and stationery?

She knew she should be grateful to Beth. But she wasn't. She recalled Beth's crush on Samuel when they were teens. He hadn't minded her flirtatious attentions one bit. Even though too young to court, Beth had been twice as pretty as Esther, and still was, with her fair complexion and hair the color of spun gold. When she waltzed into a room, all marveled at her radiance. Esther figured Beth had hoped Samuel would tire of Esther and return from San Francisco to court her once Beth turned sixteen. She probably held Esther responsible for Samuel's death too.

What was the use of rehashing the past? Esther asked herself, when she had plenty to worry about. Like where Holly was. Surely she didn't have that much to talk about with Beth. Maybe she'd decided to drive around or take the clothes back to Nathaniel. Esther didn't want her daughter to be late for supper.

“Anything I can do to help?” she asked Greta. She remembered her family ate a hearty breakfast and noon meal, then a light supper in the evening. “Early to bed, early to rise,” she could recall Dat saying.

Greta dried her hands on her apron. “A casserole's already in the oven and I made a fruit Jell-O salad. 'Tis in the refrigerator.”

“Sorry, I should have thought to ask earlier.” Esther looked around the room for a chore to keep her busy.

“
Es macht nix aus
—it doesn't matter,” Greta said. “But ya look
sclimm
—sad in your face. Worried about your mamm?”

Esther pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead and massaged it. “Yes. And I'm used to being busy. ‘Idle hands are the devil's workshop,' Mamm told me many a time.”

“I'm sure my Isaac can find a job for ya, if you're serious.”

Work alongside her brother? Esther had purposely avoided the barnyard so he wouldn't make her muck out the pigpen.

“No, thanks.” Now what? Esther was too fidgety to knit and realized she hadn't replaced her confiscated needles. It wasn't like her not to knit every day. She should have asked Holly to drive her to New Holland or Intercourse.

Esther wandered around the kitchen. Her life felt like a row of dominos about to topple down upon each other. How many careless decisions could she make? She never should have brought Holly here. She could have taken the bus or train by herself. She would have relaxed and knitted the whole trip. A sweater would be finished by now, a present for Greta. The garment would be too small for Mamm, who might find fault with Esther's stitches, as she had when Esther was young. Mamm was always on her case, as Holly would say.

“Unless you need me, I'm going for a walk before Mamm wakes up,” she told Greta.

“It's turning chilly. You're welcome to borrow my jacket and scarf, hangin' at the back door.”

“Denki. I need to use the phone shanty.” Esther glanced out the window and saw the magnificent salmon-orange sun poised to set. She needed to stretch her legs and to inhale fresh air. She would snuggle into Greta's jacket and stroll by Nathaniel's house. She hoped to speak to him about her mother's health, if the subject arose. And she was curious about his and Holly's buggy ride, and her daughter's impulsive interest in dressing Amish. Esther admitted to herself she wanted to see him, plain and simple. Maybe he'd be standing right out front, making the encounter seem spontaneous and casual. Then Esther would call Dori.

Surprisingly, the Amish Shoppe hadn't niggled Esther's mind as she'd thought it would. In Seattle, she was used to her comfortable schedule, consumed with stocking and arranging merchandise. But she'd hardly thought of the shop all day.

Nearing Nathaniel's on foot, she admired his house, barn, and outbuildings, and his stately windmill, its blades catching the copper-colored glint from the setting sun.

She climbed the steps and rapped on his front door. Hearing footsteps inside, she felt her heart beating faster.

Nathaniel opened the door wearing work clothes and slippers. His eyes brightened when he saw her. “Hullo, Esther. What a fine-gut surprise.
Wei gets?”

“Sorry if I'm interrupting.”

“Nee. Truth be known, I was thinking 'bout ya.
Kumm rei
.”

Esther couldn't fathom why he'd be thinking about her, of all people. Her throat tightened and her mind went blank, but she managed to say, “I was on my way to use the phone and thought I might find Holly returning your daughter's clothing. But her car isn't here.” She couldn't see past him, only that his front sitting room was scarcely decorated, except shelves laden with library books and a calendar with a river scene across the bottom. At one time, his wife and his two daughters lived here, but Esther saw no feminine touches. Maybe his housekeeper had put their belongings away because she hoped to be the next Mrs. King.

“I haven't laid eyes on Holly for hours,” he said. “Not since I helped Anna into bed. Would ya like to come in for coffee or hot apple cider?”

She rubbed her fingers together, then blew into her hands; they were icy. “Sounds good, but I best be on my way before it gets too dark.” She smoothed Greta's scarf over her hair and refastened the knot. “We don't want folks getting the wrong idea.” Not that Holly hadn't been here earlier changing her clothes. Imagine that! Holly had yet to describe how her muddy calamity occurred. Why had her hair looked
schtruwwlich?

“A young lady comes most every day to clean and straighten and prepare my meals,” Nathaniel said. “
Breddicher
Isaac says it's fine. She can use the income and I surely do need the help.” More proof Esther's brother Isaac, a preacher, one notch below the bishop, held the final word. “I'm a widower, you probably know.”

“I'm sorry for your loss.” If anyone could relate, Esther could.

“Ich bedank mich. It's been near fifteen years, but I still miss
mei Fraa
on nights like this. Now that my girls are married and livin' on their own, the house gets lonely.” He looked right into Esther's face, as if expecting her to say something, but Esther felt tongue-tied. She could understand how Holly might get swept away by everything about him. Thank goodness she wasn't here.

He stroked his beard. “Forgive me if I'm being too forward, but I hear ya lost your spouse too.”

“Yes, I did.” The words half choked her, even after all this time. Because she never wore a wedding band, few people in Seattle knew she'd been married.

“I've been a widow longer than you.” Esther knew the circumstances were different; he hadn't indirectly caused his wife's death. Not even Dori understood Esther's role in Samuel's demise. Dori and Jim considered themselves conscientious objectors because they'd opposed the Vietnam War, but they hadn't been taught since childhood never to retaliate. Esther wanted to weep when she envisioned her Samuel being forced into a military uniform. Had he refused to touch an M16, or had he caved in under pressure? Had he closed his eyes and prayed for forgiveness when he shot the enemy?

Still, she was curious about Nathaniel. He and his wife had only two children and no doubt had wanted more—several sons to help work his farm. Why hadn't he remarried?

She smelled warm berries and buttery crust. “Am I keeping you from your meal?” she said, hesitating to move inside, but wanting to continue their conversation.

“Lizzie put chicken in the oven an hour ago. I'd be happy to share it with ya.” He back-stepped into the house. “And blackberry pie.”

“You make it hard to resist, but I need to stop at the phone shanty and place a call to a friend who's tending my store.”

“Another time, then,” he said.

“All right, thank you.” Was he hoping she'd bring Holly back with her?

“I'm going to hold ya to it.” He glanced outside into the darkening sky. “You wanna borrow a flashlight?”

The sun had dropped behind the distant hills, leaving the world a crisscross of shadowy pockets. “What was I thinking?” she said. “Is it too late to find the phone shanty tonight?”

“Not if I walk you there. 'Twill take but a few minutes. Give me time to stoke the fire.” He came back wearing boots, a black wool jacket, a black felt hat, and carrying two flashlights. He handed her one. “Take it home with ya. I'll fetch it in the mornin'.”

“I've lost track of these parts,” she said. “We didn't have a phone shanty when I left, and many of the trees have doubled in size.”

“Like I said, 'tis no trouble walking you there.”

As they strolled side by side, Nathaniel said, “I was wondering. Forgive me if I'm prying. Are you planning to join the Amish church?”

She swung around to see if he was serious. “Get baptized at my age?”

“Yah. 'Tis never too late.” His elbow brushed against hers.

“But I live in Seattle. And I attend a church that encourages Bible studies and memorizing scripture. As a girl, the bishop frowned upon such practices.”

“Never mind about that.” He slowed his pace. “You could come home, Esther.”

Trying to read his expression, she stopped to face him and felt the ground shifting. “Right when my brothers are moving?”

“You could stay right here, with me.”

“So you could marry Holly?” The first thought to crowd into her mind flew out her mouth.

He chuckled. “Nee! It's not Holly I have my sights set on. 'Tis you I wish to court.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“I'll be right back,” I told Beth, as I strode up the stairs to fetch my laptop.

I carried my Mac to the kitchen table. “Do you mind if I check my mail here? I don't think my grandma would appreciate the computer in her house because it feeds off electricity. Plus, no Internet connection.”

“Go right ahead. We're wireless anywhere in the house.”

I sat at the table as Beth filled the kettle with water and set it on a burner. “What kind of tea do you like?” How did she know I was thirsty?

“Something herbal that won't keep me up tonight. It's been a long day. Fun, but exhausting.” Like a twisting river: sudden bends, rapids, and undercurrents.

Beth opened a box of tea bags. “Here's one called Sleepy Time.”

“Sounds perfect.”

A knock-knock on the kitchen door lured Missy away from her food dish. Her mouth half-full of kibble, she guzzled it down, then bolted toward the opening door to welcome Zach.

“Hello.” Zach's voice sounded upbeat and amiable. “I saw Holly's rental in the driveway.” When his gaze landed on my attire, he did a double take.

I was struck by his good looks. This morning, through my bleary eyes, I hadn't noticed his strong rectangular jawline, his erect posture. But I didn't care for his gaping at me right now.

“Come on in,” Beth said, and gave him a quick hug. “Dinner's still an hour away.”

“I finished up patients early.”

“That doesn't happen very often. You're usually thirty minutes late.”

“Meaning, I'll probably get a midnight call from the Schrocks. One of their mules may have sprained a pastern this afternoon, but they didn't want me to come examine it yet. They're icing the area to see if the swelling goes down.” He sniffed the air. “Smells as good as Dienner's Country Restaurant.”

“Thanks, honey.”

He shrugged off his jacket, exposing a fit physique, then moved closer to me. “Good evening, miss. Are you the same Holly Fisher I met this morning?”

“Yes, the one and only.” I felt squirmy under his scrutiny—he seemed to be looking down his nose at me. Zach the quack, I thought, and grinned to myself. But why be mean spirited? He was a skilled and respected veterinarian. And I was acting nitpicky for no good reason.

I was curious about the mule and about Zach's job. If the animal's owner were Amish, how would he contact Zach? Wake neighbors to use their telephone?

I imagined Zach answering his cell phone by his bed tonight—sleeping alone?—leaping to his feet, throwing on clothes, and dashing for his pickup, medical bag in hand. He struck me as somewhat arrogant, but I had to admire his dedication. And I admit, I was envious of his secure career. He owned a thriving business, was well respected, and didn't pay heed to the whims of Wall Street. He had it made.

“What happened here?” he said, sending me an ambiguous smile. “A transformed woman?”

“Are you mocking my Amish clothing? If you only knew what I went through to borrow them.” I was grateful Zach hadn't seen me at my worst.

He chuckled. “I'd love to hear the story.”

“Let's just say, I collided with a squishy patch of mud. If my dress and apron offend you, I can leave.” In jest, I pushed my chair out a few inches.

“Please don't go. You'd look charming no matter what you wore.” He sat across from me, his elbows on the table. “But you caught me off guard.”

Beth removed the boiling kettle from the stove top, deposited a tea bag in a small pot, and poured steaming water over it. “Holly stopped by to check her email. Zach, don't you dare give her a bad time and scare her away.”

“Since when is complimenting a woman on her dress tantamount to teasing?” he said.

“That was a compliment?” Beth raised an eyebrow in his direction as she set a tray housing a flowered china cup and saucer and the teapot on the table next to my Mac.

“Thank you, Beth.” Thinking my time here might be short I opened my laptop and angled the screen so Zach couldn't read it.

I scanned my email and noticed Larry had written. Subject: Missing you. He suggested he fly to Philadelphia to visit an uncle, borrow a car, and make a day trip to see me. Larry Haarberg here? No offense, but we'd never actually dated or shared a goodnight kiss.

I pressed Reply and wrote: “Good news: My grandmother is alive, but not doing well. At times, she's alert and agile, but then she practically fainted—an invitation for a broken hip. I met my exuberant aunts, who decided I should move to Montana with them. Don't think Mom appreciated their meddling. Will fill you in when I get home. Larry, as far as your coming here, please don't take this wrong, but I'd rather you didn't. Life is already too complicated. See you next week.”

I didn't mention I'd barely scanned his texts and hadn't listened to his phone message when I saw his number on my caller ID earlier today.

I poured tea into my cup and took a sip. While I was online, I could change our departure date—with or without Mom's approval. I hoped she wouldn't be livid but decided a few days wouldn't make much difference. She seemed distracted and might not even notice. And Dori had told us to take our time. “Don't rush back home on my account” were her parting words when I'd called her earlier.

“Can we tempt you to stay for dinner?” Zach asked me, returning my attention to the kitchen.

“Thanks, but I should get back to see how my mother and grandmother are doing.”

My fingers tapping the keyboard, I changed our airline tickets, canceling our departure and making it open-ended. I gasped as I accepted the penalty charge.

“Holly, anything I can do to help?” Beth took hold of the teapot's handle and topped off my cup. “You look disappointed. Bad news?”

“My poor credit card—” I logged out. “I was laid off a few days ago and was hoping to hear from my old boss. He hinted he'd rehire me if the economy made a miraculous comeback.”

“It gave you time to visit us,” she said.

“Hey, I have a brilliant idea,” Zach said. “I need someone in my office. My receptionist is so pregnant she can barely fit in her chair. She's quitting next week and I haven't even started looking for her replacement. How about it, Holly?”

“You want to hire me?” I didn't believe him. “Would that include making you coffee?”

“I'd have to taste your brew before I commit. I'm particular. I like it dark and strong.”

“Zach,” Beth said, “if you want to make her stick around, I can think of kinder ways of showing it. Where are your manners?”

I closed my laptop. “Thanks for the job offer, if you're serious—which I doubt. But I can't accept. I made our tickets open-ended, but eventually Mom and I need to get back to Seattle.”

“Sure we can't change your mind about staying for dinner?” Zach said.

“Positive.” I took a final sip of tea and walked my chair away from the table.

“In the meantime, you're welcome to leave your laptop here,” Beth said.

“That would be fantastic. Or I could take it to a library or coffee shop with Internet access so I won't be a bother.”

“I wouldn't hear of it.” She gave my hand a soft squeeze. “I enjoy our visits.”

“Okay, I'll come back tomorrow.” When Zach wasn't here. “Earlier in the day,” I added, then wondered why I wished to avoid him. Was the problem his or mine?