The Keeper (2 page)

She tiptoed quietly. On a normal day, as soon as she reached the fence, she would yell and yell at the goat so it would see her—she liked having it know she had crept through its pasture without permission—then jump the fence and take off for home. Today, she didn’t have time to aggravate the goat. She had much on her mind, as she often did.

Sadie Lapp was idly scrubbing potatoes at the sink, gazing out the kitchen window to the end of the yard where her brother Menno’s two bird feeders stood, their platforms heaped with sunflower seeds and cracked corn. The cardinal couple was there, the vivid red male perched on the peak of the roof, keeping watch, as his dull-colored wife was eating. Sadie let out a big sigh.

Even in the natural world, love was a wonderful thing.

Sadie glanced up when Julia came inside. “I saw you talking to Paul down by the stand,” she said. “Did you remember to ask him what flavor wedding cake he wants?” She poured cooked and drained noodles into her Ham ’n’ Noodle casserole. “I’m thinking that vanilla is safest. Everybody likes vanilla. Of course, it isn’t my wedding. It’s yours. Yours and Paul’s. And you should pick the flavor
you
want.” When Julia didn’t answer, Sadie turned around. “Jules? Did you hear me?”

Julia had come into the kitchen and slid into a chair at the long harvest table. Her elbows were propped on the table, chin in her hands. “We don’t have to decide for a while.”

“Well, I just wanted time for plenty of practice. I want it to be perfect.” She glanced at her sister. Julia’s face was white and pinched. “Is something wrong?”

Julia didn’t answer.

Sadie put down the wooden spoon she had been using to stir the casserole and sat next to Julia at the table. “There is something wrong, isn’t there?”

Julia shook her head—vigorously; so vigorously, in fact, that Sadie’s suspicions were immediately confirmed. Sadie laid her hand on her shoulder, gently. “Julia, you can tell me. What happened?”

Tears filled Julia’s eyes. “Paul wants to postpone the wedding.”

“Again? Not again!”

Slowly, Julia gave a slight nod of her head.

Sadie covered her face with her hands. “Oh Julia. Why?”

A tear leaked down Julia’s cheek and she quickly wiped it away. “He said he didn’t really know why, that he just needed more time. When I pressed him for a reason, he gave a vague excuse about the Incident.”

“Uncle Hank and the root beer bottles? But that was a month ago!”

“I know, but you remember how upset Paul’s mother was.” The sound of popping corks in the basement had panicked the horses and caused a small stampede. Quite a bit of damage was done to buggies. What made things worse was that Uncle Hank had a buggy shop. It wasn’t long before rumors started to fly that Hank Lapp might have done it on purpose, to drum up business for himself.

“But Paul’s a reasonable fellow. He must realize that Uncle Hank is just being . . . Uncle Hank. That his . . . unfortunate incidents have nothing to do with you. With any of us. Surely he knows!”

Julia sighed. “Paul thinks that a family is a family. No one makes decisions alone. His mother thinks Dad could have done something to prevent the . . . the Incident.” She smoothed out her skirt and pulled in her lips. “Maybe he’s right. Dad lets Uncle Hank do whatever he wants.”

“Uncle Hank may be a little eccentric, but he’s the closest thing Dad has to a parent.”

“Paul said he wasn’t being influenced by his mother, but I find that hard to believe . . . why else would he have changed his mind?” Julia’s voice broke on the words. A single tear fell and dropped onto her apron, followed by another and another.

Sadie got up from her chair and put her arms around her. Over Julia’s shoulder she saw the cardinal husband lift his wings and swoop away, leaving his dull little wife behind. Maybe happiness, Sadie thought, was like a bird, fixing to take wing. Maybe it was never meant to stay.

Julia heard the little bell ring from her father’s room. Amos Lapp rang it insistently.

“Dad’s tea! I forgot to take it to him.” Sadie jumped up from the chair to pick up a mug left on the counter.

“I’ll take it up to him,” Julia said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. The bell continued to ring as she hurried up the stairs with the mug of tea, trying to pull herself together. “You’re supposed to be patient,” she said as she walked into her father’s room and found him sitting in a chair, engrossed in a game of checkers with his youngest daughter. “Where do you think the word comes from?” She set the tea on the table next to his chair. “How are you feeling this afternoon?”

“I’d be better if my children didn’t keep me jailed up like a common thief,” Amos grumbled.

“Doctor’s orders.” Julia leaned her back against the windowsill and crossed her arms. “Dad, you’ve got to do something about Uncle Hank.”

Unruffled, Amos picked up a red checker piece and leaped over Mary Kate’s black one. He collected the black checker and stacked it on the side of the board. “Uncle Hank is a fine old fellow.” He looked over at her. “And he’s kin. We take care of each other.”

“I know, I know.” This conversation wasn’t a new one between Julia and her father.

“Jules, Hank is a man who has never worried about what others think of him. Few men can say that.”

“That’s just it! He doesn’t even care that he makes us the laughingstock of Stoney Ridge! What happened last month at church was . . . outrageous!”

“Plenty of folks brew root beer,” Amos said. He gave a mock scowl as M.K. double-jumped his checkers.

“But look at the aftermath . . .” Julia stopped short as she noticed that M.K. was listening. Listening hard.

“What aftermath?” Amos asked.

Julia looked away.

“Paul Fisher canceled the wedding,” M.K. whispered to him.

Amos looked at Julia, shocked. “What?! When?”

“Postponed!” Julia hurried to amend. “Paul
postponed
the wedding. There’s a difference.” She glared at her sister. “You were eavesdropping on Sadie and me in the kitchen just now, weren’t you?”

M.K. studied the checkerboard with great interest.

Amos frowned at M.K. “Why don’t you go downstairs and help Sadie with dinner?”

“I happen to have some real interesting news I might be willing to share and instead I get sent away, like a dog,” M.K. said glumly.

“What’s your big news?” Julia said, eyes narrowed to dangerous slits.

Amos looked over at Julia. “Is it true about the wedding? Does Paul really want to postpone it?”

Julia tucked her chin to her chest. She gave a brief nod.

“And you think the reason is because of Uncle Hank and the exploding bottles?” Amos asked finally, sounding pensive. “Paul’s no stranger to Uncle Hank’s ways.”

“What else could it be?” Julia said. She turned to M.K. “What news did you hear at school today?”

M.K. shrugged. “I might have heard a few things. Got me to thinking . . . maybe . . .”

“Maybe . . . what?” Julia asked.

M.K. lit up like a firefly. “Jacob Glick called off his wedding to Katie Yoder. And Henry Stoltzfus broke off courtin’ with Sarah Miller.”

Julia tilted her head. “What? All of them? But . . . why?” She paused. “Oh . . . you don’t mean . . . don’t tell me!” She covered her cheeks with her hands. “He’s back, isn’t he?”

M.K. nodded, pleased to deliver the news. “He’s back. The Bee Man is back.”

“Ah,” Amos said, leaning back in his chair. “That explains quite a bit.”

“It’s happening all over again,” Julia said. “Just like last year.” Her sadness over the postponed wedding dissipated. In its place was anger. Hot, furious, steaming-like-a-teakettle anger. Directed at the Bee Man.

Amos brightened. “Maybe it wasn’t your Uncle Hank’s fault at all that Paul wants to postpone the wedding!”

“He certainly didn’t help matters,” Julia said crossly. “And then along comes the Bee Man this week to really seal the deal.”

“Or not,” M.K. added helpfully.

2

I
f asked, folks would say that Sadie Lapp was solid and practical, on the quiet side, and that she was a fine example to today’s youth. Or if they were feeling less generous, they said that Sadie was a girl no one ever had to worry about.

What they didn’t know about Sadie was that she had a deeply romantic side that she tried to keep well hidden. She felt nearly as bad as Julia about Paul’s perpetual cold feet. How could he do such a thing to her sister? Twice, now. After all, getting married was the biggest thing that could ever happen in a girl’s life. A dream come true. To marry the man you loved. Sadie could hardly imagine how it would feel to be a bride—though she did try. She had such dreams for her own wedding. She’d already planned the menu, chosen her material for her wedding dress, added special treasures to her hope chest. She had everything ready and waiting.

Everything but the groom, M.K. frequently pointed out.

It was never too soon to plan for such a big event, Sadie would say in her defense. Weddings took a great deal of planning.

Sadie wondered how she would feel if she were in Julia’s situation. She thought it would be like an arrow had been shot through her from front to back, leaving her with pain, longing, regret. Julia had looked so sad during dinner and excused herself after eating only a few bites of casserole.

Sadie put her fork down and leaned back in her chair. She glanced at Uncle Hank, seated across the table, scraping crumbs of gingerbread off his plate with the back of his fork. He managed to put away a lot of dinner, despite the day’s tragedy. He wanted seconds on everything except the Ham ’n’ Noodle casserole. He had always reminded Sadie of a character from the Bible, a prophet, or maybe a shepherd, with his longish hair and untrimmed beard. She could see Uncle Hank was completely unconcerned about Julia’s change of circumstances. So was Menno, Sadie’s brother, who was preoccupied with helping himself to a second piece of cake. Uncle Hank held out his plate to Menno to be served.

Surprisingly, M.K. seemed to understand the gravity of the situation. She looked up the stairs and back at Sadie. “I could take Julia some cake. She likes your gingerbread.”

Sadie brushed M.K.’s cheek with the back of her hand. “I think she just wants to be alone.”

“Our Jules is better off without Paul,” Uncle Hank said as he reached across Menno to grab the bowl of whipped cream. “Them Fishers always think they’re something.” He dropped spoonfuls of whipped cream on his fresh slice of gingerbread.

“Amen to that,” M.K. muttered under her breath. “Especially Jimmy.”

Sadie elbowed her to hush.

“Well, it’s true,” M.K. said. “In school today, Jimmy Fisher put a black racer snake in the girls’ outhouse.”

“That is pretty low,” Menno said in his slow, deliberate way.

“You can say that again,” M.K. said.

“That is pretty low,” Menno repeated, ever literal. “That must have scared the snake.”

M.K. stared at him. “The
snake
? It scared the living daylights out of me.” She coughed. “I mean, out of the
girls
!”

Sadie cut the last piece of gingerbread cake—after all, why save it?—and slipped it on her plate.

Julia couldn’t sleep. She was assaulted by an avalanche of thoughts, rolling, tumbling. How could life change so fast? This very morning she had woken earlier than usual, so filled with joy she could have burst. A taste of something unspeakably sweet—a wedding—and then, this afternoon, she had lost it. Paul took her dream and broke it like a fistful of spaghetti over a pot of boiling water. Snap, in half. Gone.