A Beau for Katie (8 page)

Chapter Seven

F
reeman stretched his good leg and shifted his weight to find a more comfortable position in the wheelchair. They'd finished the noon meal more than an hour earlier, and the porch with its faint breeze off the millpond was a cool retreat from the midsummer sun. Katie had returned to her task of pulling weeds in the flowerbed by the steps after clearing away the dinner dishes, and he'd been just sitting here watching her. He was surprisingly in a good mood. It was nice, after the quiet weekend, having Katie back at the house again with all her chatter and giving orders, so nice that he couldn't think of much to complain about.

“Finding any flowers in there?” he called to her. “Or just weeds?”

“Plenty of flowers.” Katie tossed another handful of chickweed into the wheelbarrow.

“Grossmama said she had perennials in there, but I couldn't see them,” Freeman said. “I was meaning to try and clean them up for her, but I had so much to do at the mill, I just didn't get to it.”

“I can see that,” Katie replied. She'd come prepared for outdoor work today. Her apron was a sturdy one, her blue dress faded from much use and many washings, and her pinned-up hair covered with a denim-blue scarf instead of her usual
kapp.
The blue of her dress made her eyes seem even bluer. He wondered how it was that he hadn't noticed how large her eyes were and how they didn't seem to miss a thing.

“So Ivy asked you to do some weeding for her?” Katie said.

“A while back.” He shrugged. “But I've been really busy. Did you have a good visiting Sunday?” he asked in an attempt to steer the conversation away from his failings in the yard maintenance department. His Sunday had been somewhat of a disappointment. They were supposed to have company, as Katie had suggested, but that fell through. An illness in the family. So there'd been no one here to talk to but his grandmother and Uncle Jehu, and they'd spent so much time together recently that they'd already heard all of each others' stories and opinions. He'd enjoyed seeing Eli and Charley on Saturday, and the next day had been a bit of a letdown after the fun he'd had with them. And, he had to admit, with Katie. Seeing her in a social capacity had been surprising, but in a good way. His buddies would be talking for a long time about the ringer that Katie had made.

“It was nice,” Katie said. “Sara had a bunch of company. Rebecca and her husband came by with their family, and brought home-made peach ice cream. And there were...other people.”

Freeman smiled. “Sounds as if I missed something good.”

“You did. Sara and Ellie made lemon pound cake on Saturday, and it was nice to have the peach ice cream to serve with the cake to guests.”

The cake and ice cream sounded like something he would have enjoyed. Why hadn't she thought to bring him a slice of cake? He was especially fond of lemon pound cake, so much so that he could almost taste it. “Must be pretty lively living at Sara's,” Freeman observed. “Always somebody coming by.”

“I like it. It's not home, of course, but Sara makes me feel as if it is.”

“You said
other people
. Who else came to visit?” he asked.

She hesitated. “There was LeRoy, a cousin of someone. Guengerich, I think Sara said his last name was. Up visiting relatives from western Virginia. She said that he wanted to meet me.”

“One of Sara's clients?” Freeman frowned. He didn't know any Geungerichs from Virginia, but he could picture the man in his imagination—tall, rangy, hat brim a little too wide, and beady eyes too close together. Freeman seemed to recall that someone had told him that those members of ultra-conservative churches in the mountains wore only a single suspender on their trousers. Two suspenders were deemed too fancy. He wondered if this LeRoy fit the image. “Is he in the market for a wife?”

Katie glanced up at him and shrugged. She had stopped weeding. “Doesn't matter if he is or isn't. We didn't hit it off. He asked me to go for a walk with him, but we didn't have much to talk about. Mostly he went on about the mildew in his garden. I don't think I responded the way he wanted me to. He lost interest pretty quickly after I told him he should make a spray from baking soda and dish soap and treat it with that.”

“What makes you think he wasn't interested in you?” Freeman straightened up, liking the tale better now that it was clear that this Virginia stranger hadn't taken Katie's fancy.

“Because when he left Sara's after the ice cream and cake, he went home to take supper with Jane Stutzman.”

“Jane? I know her. Pretty girl.”

“
Ya
, she is. I'm sure LeRoy thought so.”

“But if he wasn't to your liking, what difference does it make who he had supper with?”

She stood up and brushed the dirt off her skirt. “It doesn't. I'm not really seeking a match, anyway. I'm already spoken for—sort of. I'm seriously considering the suit of an old neighbor of mine. Uriah. And he's already said that he is willing to marry me.”

“Old, huh?” Freeman frowned. “How old? Old enough to be your father? Your grandfather?”

Katie laughed. “
Ne
. Nothing like that. Uriah's my age. I just meant that we grew up next door to each other. Did you think I was planning on marrying a graybeard?”

He considered. “It happens. Lots of girls marry older men, especially girls who have a hard time in the marriage market.”

Her eyebrows went up and he could tell her dander was ruffled. “You think I'm having a
hard time
?”

He shrugged. “No offense, but Sara, well, we all know that she specializes in hard-to-place cases.”

“And?”

Freeman couldn't tell by the expression on Katie's face now whether she was annoyed or intrigued by the way this conversation was going. “You
are
living with the matchmaker.”

“So you think that means I'm one of Sara's hard-to-place matches?”

“I didn't say that.” He rolled the wheelchair closer to the open screen door. “It's just that Sara has a reputation for being the best at what she does. I'm surprised that she'd introduce you to this LeRoy and then he'd run off to Jane Stutzman's and leave you standing there. Doesn't sound like the type of man Sara should be trying to fix you up with. The whole idea of a matchmaker is to find someone suitable for you. Obviously LeRoy wasn't someone who would be suitable.”

Katie folded her arms and got a stubborn look on her face. There was a little bit of dirt on her chin, and he thought about mentioning it to her, but it seemed as though she was already on edge, so he didn't. “So you have something against matchmakers? Or is it Sara you doubt?”

“I like Sara well enough.”

“So it's the whole matchmaker thing?”

Freeman shrugged.

“Funny you should think that.”

“And why is that?”

She fixed him with a stare that could have burned through steel. “It just strikes me as odd, you having so many opinions on me finding a husband when you're older than I am and have no wife. Surely the church elders have mentioned it to you. Most men your age have a family already.”

“I'll marry when the time is right,” he answered brusquely. “I have a lot of responsibility with the mill and—”

“Sound like excuses to me.” She came up the steps to the porch and he had to roll back to make way for her. “With men,” she went on, “it should be easy. You are the ones who do the asking. Women have to wait for someone to notice them.”

“And go to matchmakers, apparently.”

“Some do,” she agreed. “I think it's better to consider someone like Sara who's made dozens of matches—maybe even hundreds. And not one of her couples has ever failed. Can you believe that? Every marriage arrangement she made has been a success. Look what she did for Addy and Gideon Esch. Have you been to the new butcher shop?”

Freeman nodded.

“Everyone thought that Addy would stay home with her mother until her hair turned gray, but Sara found her a husband. And they're happy. Sara says that they'll be welcoming a little dishwasher or sausage maker into their family by winter.”

“Theirs does seem like a good match,” he agreed. “And from what I hear, Gideon's parents were in despair of his finding a wife. So, it seems that Sara—”

“Knew what she was doing when she brought them together,” Katie finished, cutting him off. “Like I said. She's good at what she does.” Her expression changed, becoming suddenly vulnerable. “But it doesn't seem to be working for me. Not unless you count Uriah, and his family contacted Sara, not him. It was my brother Isaac who suggested we let Sara handle the negotiations.”

He gave a doubtful grunt. “Negotiations? Sounds like Uriah is buying a sheep. How long has it been since the two of you have seen each other? Exchanged words?”

“A year. Maybe a little longer. But it's not as though he's a stranger,” she added quickly. “And we know the family well. They're good people, well thought of by their church community.”

He rolled back to make room for her. “You've never met anyone here in Kent County you wanted to marry? None of the boys you grew up with? Walked out with?” he added.

“
Ne
. I've ridden home from singings with boys a couple of times, but no one has ever wanted to walk out with me. Sometimes, I wonder if there's something wrong with me. I see younger girls courting, marrying. Even having their first child. And I'm still living with my mother and brother. And now his wife.” Her eyes grew large and wistful as she sat down on the edge of a chair. “So I have a lot of faith in Sara and her wisdom, maybe not so much in myself when it comes to finding the right man.”

He lowered his cast to the floor, leaned forward, and lowered his voice. “Are you asking my opinion?”

She looked up suddenly. “Your opinion? On what?”

“You know. Your...trouble. Dating.”

She drew herself up, the apples of her cheeks growing rosy. “Certainly not. I'm just explaining to you why Sara—”

“Well, since you asked,” he said, interrupting. “My guess is that you're a little too outspoken for a woman. Too quick to give your opinion on things.”

“What do you mean by that?” She rose and began to pace the length of the porch. “Do you think I should be like Jane? Say, ‘
Ya
, LeRoy,' and never have a thought of my own?”

“I didn't say that. I
said
, that in my estimation, you have too many opinions. You never hold back from giving them, asked for or not.”

“Why shouldn't I speak my mind?” she demanded, spinning around to come toward him. “You do. You've got opinions on how scrapple should be cooked, how much milk goes in coffee even when it's not yours,” she sputtered. “Men give opinions all the time.”

“But you're not a man. You're a young woman. Hasn't someone ever told you that you should show more...more...” He hesitated, searching for the right word.

She stopped in front of him and waved away his argument with a quick gesture. “Maybe it's in my nature, or maybe because I grew up in a household with brothers, but I've never wasted time with mealy-mouth pretense. I'm a sensible woman with just as good a mind as you or any other man. If I think something, I say it.”

“That might do among the Englishers, but the bishops tell us that a woman's place is—”

“I know what the Bible says.” She dropped her hands to her hips. “If I had a husband, I would show him the respect due—”

“But you have no husband.” He shrugged. “Maybe your headstrong attitude is the reason. You have a face and form to attract any man with eyes in his head, but your manner—”

“You approve of my face, then?” She cocked her head to one side.

“I'm sorry.” He felt his face grow warm. “I shouldn't have said that.”

She studied him, seeming to consider if he was being truthful. “You think I'm pretty? Is that what you're giving your opinion on now? My looks?”

“Katie Byler. You are the most outrageous...” For seconds, it seemed to him that his enjoyable afternoon was fast sliding into chaos. And then he shook his head and chuckled. “You're never boring. I'll say that for you.”

Katie didn't take that as the compliment he meant it to be. She pointed at him. “Back to what you were saying. So, you approve of my being pretty so long as I mind my tongue and don't speak my mind?”

“I didn't say that. You asked me why you weren't attracting more suitors and I—”

“I did
not
ask you that,” she exclaimed. “You took it upon yourself to give your view on a matter that I consider none of your affair.” She headed back down the porch steps. “I think it's time we ended this conversation before one of us says something that we can't take back.” She pointed toward the kitchen. “There are leftovers in the refrigerator. I'm going back to Sara's, where I won't offend anyone with my outrageous behavior.”

“But it's early,” he said, immediately contrite. He didn't want her to go. The best part of his day was when she was here...even when she was giving her opinions. “You never leave this early. I was hoping that I could have a little more iced tea before—”

“You know where it is,” she said, charging down the sidewalk, barefoot. “You're capable of fetching your own tea.”

“Wait. If you're bound on going, I'll have Shad hitch up your buggy and—”

She raised her hand. “No need. I can do it myself. A handy skill if I'm going to be left an old maid.” With that, she turned her back on him, and hurried off, her back stiff, her movements quick and sharp.

Freeman stared after her, not certain what had gone wrong. All he'd done was give her his honest opinion.