Rosemary Opens Her Heart: Home at Cedar Creek, Book Two (28 page)

He eased Cecil over to the shoulder and stopped the buggy. His mouth was so dry he
could hardly speak. “I’m sorry,” he rasped.

Rosemary let out a shuddery breath. “Me, too. That was a close one.”

A strained silence hovered between them for the rest of the ride. He knew better than
to hope for another kiss when they arrived at the Yutzy farm. Beth Ann hurried past
him to get into the house—probably to tell Titus how they’d nearly been hit—and Rosemary
hugged her daughter against her shoulder. “Denki for the ride, Matt,” she murmured
as she ascended the wooden stairs to the porch. When the screen door banged behind
her, it had the sound of finality.

Matt stepped back up into the buggy, still shaken. It was going to be a long ride
home—and a long time before he got back into Rosemary’s good graces.

M
att sat in the phone shanty, listening to the ringing…ringing…of the Yutzys’ phone.
How could he apologize again and get Rosemary talking to him if no one picked up?
It would be so helpful to hear her voice, to regain the confidence he’d felt in her
kiss—

A loud knocking on the windowpane startled him out of his thoughts. “This isn’t your
private phone, Matt,” a familiar voice reminded him. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble,
I’d like to make a call.”

Emma was glaring at him through the glass. While it was no surprise that she was still
angry, it wore on him that both she and Rosemary were upset with him.

“I’ve watched you come in here four times in the last hour,” Emma continued in her
impatient tone. “What’s the problem? Is Rosemary not taking your calls now? Could
it be she listened to my advice?”

Matt came up out of the wooden chair so fast it banged against the shanty’s back wall.
“That’s not fair, Emma! I apologized to you, so— What’d you tell her?”

“That’s none of your never-mind, now, is it?”

As she held his gaze, it saddened him to see the glint of vengefulness in her eyes.
How had he gotten two young women crosswise enough to conspire against him? Matt sensed
this conversation would go nowhere positive, so he walked away. Judging from the familiar
horses and buggies hitched alongside the mercantile, it looked like a good place to
hear basic male conversation.

As he stepped inside, he inhaled the heady scent of bulk grass seed and the dry tang
of onions set in bins near the door. At this time in the afternoon, the large rooms
of the mercantile were much dimmer than the bright sunlight outside, so he allowed
his eyes to adjust as he listened to the ongoing discussion.

“Who do you suppose folks’ll be naming as their choices for a new preacher, come time
for the falling of the lot on Sunday?” Rudy Ropp asked as he loaded two salt blocks
into his shopping cart.

Pete Beachey, their deacon, stood an aisle away, looking at mousetraps. “Better be
one of our younger fellas, like Carl Byler or maybe Leon Mast. Gets to be hard on
an older man’s nerves—and his pocketbook—when he reaches the point he’s only got enough
energy to support himself with his own business.”

“When Preacher Paul and I would go fishin’,” Merle Graber chimed in, “he’d tell me
how he’d visit a member and get told it was none of his business if they were usin’
their kid’s cell phone or that they’d been attendin’ church with the Mennonites. Nobody
wanted
his preachin’ job, yet they were always tellin’ him how he should do it.” He let
out a short laugh. “Sure hope I’m not picked to be the preacher. I’ve already got
somebody tellin’ me how to do every little thing.”

Matt chuckled along with the rest of the men in the store. Even though Merle’s memory
wasn’t as sharp as it used to be, his sense of humor—especially concerning Eunice—was
still on target.

“Jah, and preachin’s a thankless job, too,” said Ezra Yutzy. “I’ve heard Abe Nissley
tellin’ how, more than once, he’s been called away
from his orchard to settle somebody’s dispute on a gut, sunny day, only to lose some
of his crop to hail damage when he couldn’t get his apples picked in time. Kind of
a shame to saddle a younger fella with that lifetime burden when they’ve got kids
comin’ along.”

“But that’s part of the vow we men take when we join the church,” Matt’s father pointed
out from his high stool at the checkout counter. “I’d hate to think about keeping
up with the mercantile while studying Scripture and preparing to preach, though. There’s
only so much a man can concentrate on at one time.”

Matt headed down the aisle where they sold bags of roasted peanuts in the shell, hoping
not to draw the men’s attention as they talked about Cedar Creek’s most crucial, controversial
topic. His mother and grandmother had discussed this subject with Aunt Abby nearly
every day this week, so it was good to hear the opinions of the menfolk. As he rounded
the end of the snack shelves, however, Rudy caught sight of him.

“Well now, Sam, here’s your boy,” the older fellow announced. “Matt’s plenty sensible
enough to run the store when you’d need to be gone on a preachin’ errand or studyin’
up on the Bible.”

Matt grabbed a bag of peanuts and hurried toward the front counter as though he had
somewhere he needed to be. “Not so sure that’d be a gut idea,” he replied, feeling
all the men’s gazes focused on him. “I’m lots better suited to being a shepherd than
a shopkeeper. Right, Dat?”

His father looked pointedly at him as he accepted his money. “The man chosen will
rely on his family to stand with him—to step in and help keep bread on the table.
A preacher’s whole family lives with a new set of priorities.”

“Jah, well, I’ll deal with that when the time comes,” Matt murmured before he headed
outside again. The afternoon had gotten off to a rocky start, and when he saw that
Emma was no longer in the phone shanty, he hoped the sound of Rosemary’s voice might
improve his mood—except his dat had followed him outside.

“I get the feeling something’s been bothering you all week, son. And maybe we don’t
need to share it with all the fellows in the store.”

It was the sort of statement Matt knew better than to duck. Anytime his dat left the
mercantile to talk with him, it was a sign Sam Lambright intended to conduct an entirely
different type of business…and maybe it was time to turn loose of the concern that
had burdened him since Saturday.

“While driving Rosemary and the girls back to Queen City last week, I, um, nearly
got us all killed.” The bag of peanuts crackled as he gripped it. “A car ran up real
close behind us. Then the brakes squealed and he swerved around us, honking up a storm.
Scared the daylights out of us,” Matt continued in an urgent voice. “And when Rosemary
pointed out that I hadn’t turned on the buggy lights, I—I apologized, but she hasn’t
returned any of my calls since then.”

His father’s face tightened with concern, yet he remained calm. “We can’t know what
English drivers are thinking—or if they’re just
not
thinking—when they come up behind our buggies too fast. And sometimes it’s sheer
orneriness when they make sport of spooking our horses. I’ve forgotten my lights a
time or two,” he added, stroking his dark beard. “And jah, it was usually when I was
distracted by the young lady in the seat beside me.”

Matt swallowed, waiting for a lecture about the precautions, the responsibilities
everyone assumed while they were driving. There was no getting around how he needed
a talking-to, yet when his dat’s broad hand settled on his shoulder, Matt felt a solid
strength rather than any signs of anger.

“Truth be told, a close call usually scares us into remembering the lights after that,”
he went on. “But it was God’s doing—and probably that slow-moving vehicle reflector
on the buggy—that kept you from being killed. And for that I’m thankful. It was a
blessing, the day you were born, son, and it’s too soon to lose you.”

Matt went warm all over, basking in the love his father seldom
put into words. Dat loved Phoebe and Gail and Ruthie, of course, yet he had always
felt favored because he was the only son. “But I feel bad because Rosemary’s not speaking
to me or letting me—”

“She was scared, too. And what with Titus buying the Bontrager place, she has a lot
on her mind right now.” His father smiled wryly. “But we can never know what women
are really worried about, jah? Your mamm has been upset all this week, thinking that
if I’m chosen to preach she’ll have to quit her midwifing. So it’s a wise thing you’ve
done, telling
me
about your highway incident instead of talking about it at the table, Matt. We’re
both better off for that!”

Matt enjoyed the sound of his father’s low laughter as it blended with his own.

“We’ll believe the best, come Sunday, when God chooses his servant for Cedar Creek,
too,” Dat went on. “Just as we’ll believe He knows what
you
ought to do after that, and what path Rosemary should choose, as well. It’s all a
lot simpler if we let God be in charge.”

Matt felt a glow when he met his father’s gaze, as though his dat had pronounced a
benediction, a blessing just for him. It was a holy moment, shining like a vibrant
green leaf, when he better understood the strong, silent bond that had deepened over
his lifetime…the sort of love he yearned to experience with Rosemary, and with Katie
and his own children someday.

“Thanks, Dat,” he murmured.

“We both feel better for talking this out. So now it’s back to business.”

Matt watched his father walk through the mercantile door, with a prayer that he himself
would conduct God’s business and his family’s business in a mature, responsible way.
He opened his sack and enjoyed a couple of fresh peanuts. Off to the west, the sky
had darkened with rain clouds, so after one more try at talking to Rosemary he’d get
back to checking the pasture fences.

One job at a time, one day at a time.
It was the best way to get things done.

Rosemary divided the big batch of bread dough into four balls and then sprinkled the
countertop with more flour. It was a humid, rainy afternoon, not ideal for working
with yeast, but then it was one of those days when nothing else was going well, either.
School had let out for the summer today, and Beth Ann’s mood hung as low and dreary
as the storm clouds.

“I—I hurried home by myself. I couldn’t stay a single minute after we were dismissed,”
she said between sniffles. “Couldn’t say good-bye to Teacher Rachel or to Fannie and
Mary Etta Schlabach, or—well, what if I never make such gut friends in Cedar Creek,
Rosemary? What if—”

Rosemary slipped her arm around Beth Ann’s shaking shoulders. “Jah, it’ll take some
time, but Ruthie and the Coblentz twins already think you’re pretty special, you know.
And with the Ropp girls just around the bend, too, why, you’ll have a new buddy bunch
in no time. You’ll see, Beth Ann.”

The young girl drew a loud, shuddery breath and began to cry in earnest. “It’s just
so
hard
, Rosemary. Dat doesn’t understand that it’s more than leaving my gut friends. It’s…well,
I’ll be leavin’ Mamm behind, too.”

Rosemary sighed along with her young sister-in-law, feeling the same pain on an adult
level. All her life she’d lived either in the home where she’d grown up—even after
she’d married Joe—or just down the road from her mother and sister. And how would
she explain to Katie that they wouldn’t be seeing Mammi and Aunt Malinda every day
once they moved? She was glad her daughter was napping now instead of listening in
on this tearful conversation. Like Beth Ann, Rosemary would miss taking wildflowers
to the little cemetery where they had laid Joe and Alma to rest.

When she saw Titus coming out the barn door, she stood taller. “Better dry your eyes
now. Your dat’s got something on his mind, and he’s headed this way.”

Beth Ann swiped at her wet face with her sleeve and began kneading a dough ball, her
back to the door.

Rosemary picked up another lump of the bread dough, glad for the chance to work her
arm muscles until they tired…losing herself in the age-old rhythm of flattening, then
folding the dough with the heels of her hands until it felt pliant and springy. The
screen door banged. With the sound of water running in the mudroom sink came the tang
of Titus’s muck-covered boots.

Rosemary felt him watching the two of them as he dried his hands in the doorway. “Just
now making bread?” he asked. “Thought you’d be putting supper together.”

Oh, but that remark rubbed Rosemary wrong, even though he’d said it in a pleasant
enough voice. But then, hadn’t a lot of ordinary things bothered her this week? “Had
some pies that didn’t cooperate today,” she explained. “The filling got too thick,
and then I forgot to set the oven timer so I had to make four more. Sorry.”

Titus grunted. “Could be, if you’d return Matt’s calls, you’d be in a better frame
of mind. Just now picked up the phone in the barn, and it’s him again, asking if you’ll
please come talk to him.”

Rosemary closed her eyes. “You’re wondering why supper’s late, and I’m up to my elbows
in flour and dough.”