A Sister's Secret (4 page)

Mom’s blue eyes twinkled like fireflies in the heat of summer. “I’m sure they’ll appreciate such a thoughtful gift.”

“I considered giving them one of Heidi’s puppies because they’ll be born soon and should be weaned in plenty of time for the wedding.” Martha shrugged. “Since Grace isn’t much of an animal lover, I figured she probably wouldn’t welcome it.”

“I think you’re right about that.” Mom pulled out a chair beside Martha and sat down. “In all your sister’s twenty-four years, she’s never had a pet.” She frowned. “At least, not to my knowledge. No telling what she did when she was gone those two years during her rumschpringe.”

Martha nodded. Her sister’s running-around days were not a topic for discussion. Martha had been twelve and Ruth fifteen when Grace left home for a time. Whenever Martha and Ruth were around, Mom and Dad had avoided the subject of their strong-willed daughter and her desire to try out the English way of life. Martha figured her folks probably worried that their other two daughters might follow in their older sister’s footsteps, so the less said the better regarding Grace’s rumschpringe.

When Grace finally came to her senses and returned home, she was welcomed without question, just like the prodigal son in the Bible had been. Of course, things might have been different if Grace had been a member of the Amish church at the time. But since she hadn’t been baptized or joined the faith before she’d gone English, the community didn’t shun her, and she didn’t need to confess when she returned home.

“Would you like a cup of hot cider or some lemonade?” Mom asked, pushing Martha’s thoughts to the back of her mind.

Martha’s mouth watered as she thought about the delicious apple cider Dad made every fall. “Jah, sure. Some cider would be real nice.”

Mom pushed her chair aside and headed to their propane-operated refrigerator. She withdrew a jug of cider and ambled back across the room, where she poured some of the amber-colored liquid into a kettle and set it on the stove to heat. “Want some crackers and cheese to go with the cider?”

“I’d better not. Don’t want to fill up on snacks now and be too full to eat lunch.”

“Guess I’ll just stick to hot cider, too.” A few minutes later, Mom placed a mug of cider in front of Martha. “Here you go. Enjoy,” she said before moving over to the counter across the room.

“Aren’t you going to join me?”

“I’ll drink mine while I make your daed a sandwich. It’ll be time for lunch soon, so I’ll take it out to his woodworking shop when I’m done.”

“Won’t Dad be coming up to the house to eat?” Martha asked as she threaded her needle with rose-colored thread.

“He’s got a backload of work and doesn’t want to take the time for a big meal at noon.” Mom opened the breadbox and pulled out a loaf of whole-wheat bread she’d made. “Even with Luke helping him, he’s still way behind.”

Martha set her embroidery aside and reached for her mug. The tantalizing scent of apple drifted up as a curl of steam rose from the hot cider. She took a sip and smacked her lips. “Umm ... this is sure good.”

“Jah. Your daed makes some of the best apple cider around.”

“Say, Mom, I was wondering if you’ve noticed anything different about Grace lately.”

“Different in what way?”

“Ever since she came home from work on Monday, she’s been acting kind of odd—like she’s off in her own little world or might be worried about something.”

Mom shuffled back to the refrigerator, this time removing a package of trail bologna, a head of lettuce, and a jar of mayonnaise. “Maybe she’s just tired. Working as a waitress and being on my feet all day would tucker me out.”

Martha took another sip of cider. “When we headed for bed last night, I asked Grace if everything was okay.”

“What’d she say?”

“Said things were fine and dandy.”

Mom was on the other side of the room again, slathering mayonnaise on four slices of bread. “Then they probably are.”

Martha shrugged and pushed her chair aside. “Think I’ll head out to the barn and check on Heidi. Her time’s getting close, and I want to be sure everything goes all right when she gives birth to those pups.”

“Jah.” Mom reached for the package of bologna. “I’ll be in the shop with your daed for a while, in case you need me for anything.”

***

“Would you mind making a delivery for me?” Roman asked Luke. “I promised to have those tables and chairs ready for Steven Bates this week. He’s always been a picky customer, and I need to make good on that promise.”

Luke pushed some dark hair off his forehead and wiped the sweat away with the back of his hand. “Jah, sure. I can do that right now if ya like.”

“That’s fine, but don’t take too long getting there.” Roman grimaced as he rubbed at a kink in his lower back. “And don’t dillydally on the way back like you did on the last delivery you made.”

Luke shrugged. “Just didn’t see any need to run the horse too hard.”

“Jah, well, let’s get that furniture loaded, and you can be on your way.”

Half an hour later with the furniture placed in the back of the wagon, Luke headed down the road, and Roman resumed work on a set of kitchen cabinets he was making for their bishop, Noah King. He’d just started sanding the doors when a gray-haired, middle-aged English man stepped into the shop, holding a notebook.

“Are you the owner of this place?” the man asked.

Roman nodded. “I am.”

“Do you own just the woodworking shop or the house and land it sets on, too?”

“Own it all—fifty acres, to be exact.”

The man thrust out his hand. “My name’s Bill Collins, and I’m scouting out some land in the area, hoping to buy several acres to develop over time.”

Ignoring the man’s offered handshake, Roman squinted. “Develop?”

“That’s right. I want to build a tract of new homes, and I’m also thinking of putting in a golf course, so I—”

“My land’s not for sale.”

Mr. Collins rubbed his chin as he leaned against Roman’s desk. “Come now, Mr. Hostettler—”

“You know my name?”

“The sign on your shop says ‘HOSTETTLER’S WOODWORKING.’”

Roman gave a curt nod.

“Anyway, I was hoping you’d be interested in hearing what I have to say. I’m prepared to offer you a decent price for your land.”

“Not interested.”

“Oh, but if you’ll just give me a chance to—”

“One of my neighbors wanted to buy my land once, but I said no, so I’m sure not going to sell it to you.”

“Mr. Hostettler, I assure you—”

The door opened again. Judith entered the room carrying a jug of cider and Roman’s lunch pail in her hands.

He breathed a sigh of relief, glad for the interruption.

“I know it’s not quite noon, but I brought your lunch,” she said, offering him a pleasant smile. “Where do you want me to set it?”

“On my desk—if you can find the room, that is.” He nodded when Judith pushed some papers aside and set the lunch pail down.

She glanced at the land developer, who hovered near the desk as though he was looking for something. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” she said.

The man opened his mouth as if to comment, but Roman spoke first. “You’re not interrupting a thing. Mr. Collins is on his way out.”

“Give some consideration to what I said. I’ll drop by again soon and see if you’re ready to hear my offer.” With that, Bill Collins turned and sauntered out the door.

“What was that all about?” Judith asked when the door clicked shut.

Roman moved away from the cabinets he’d been sanding. “The fellow wanted to buy our land.”

Her eyes widened. “Whatever for?”

“Said something about wanting to build a bunch of houses and a golf course, of all things.” He flicked some sawdust off his trousers. “I told him I wasn’t interested in selling, and if he comes back, I’ll tell him the same.”

“I would hope so.” Judith nodded toward the door. “On my way down from the house, I saw Luke heading out with a wagonload of furniture.” She sat in the chair behind Roman’s desk. “Is he making a delivery for you?”

“Jah. He’s taking a table and some chairs over to Steven Bates’s place. He’d better not be late getting back to the shop like he was last time.” Roman shook his head. “That young fellow’s a fair enough worker, but he’s got a mind of his own. Makes me wonder how things are going with him and Ruth since they’ve begun courting.”

“I’m sure they’re going fine, or Ruth would have said something. She’s not one to keep her feelings bottled up the way Grace has always done.”

Roman grunted in reply and moved over to the desk. He had no desire to discuss their oldest daughter and her refusal to talk about things. In many ways, Grace reminded him of his sister, Rosemary, only Grace had finally returned home where she belonged. Rosemary hadn’t.

“I’m glad your business is doing so well,” Judith said, leaning her elbows on the desk and staring up at him. “When that English fellow John Peterson moved into the area a few months ago and opened a woodworking shop, I was afraid you might lose some of your customers to him.”

Roman shook his head. “Nope. Hasn’t seemed to bother my business one iota.” He lifted the lid of his lunch pail and peered inside. “What kind of sandwich did you make today?”

“Trail bologna and baby Swiss cheese, and I made two in case you’re really hungry. I put some of your favorite double crunch cookies in there, as well.”

He smacked his lips. “You spoil me,
fraa.
”

“That’s the part I enjoy the most about being your wife.” She grinned and pushed back the chair. “Guess I should head up to the house and let you eat your lunch in peace.”

“Why don’t you stay awhile and visit? I’d enjoy the company.” He grabbed one of his wooden stools and pulled it over to the desk. “What’s our youngest daughter up to today? Has she been combing through the ads in the newspaper to see if anymore hund are for sale?”

Judith sighed. “I wish Martha would forget about raising dogs and find herself a real job, like our other two girls have done.”

“Let me pray, and then we’ll talk about it.”

Judith nodded and bowed her head, and Roman did the same. After a few seconds of silent prayer, he opened his eyes and reached into the lunch pail to retrieve one of the sandwiches. “I think we should give Martha the chance to see if she can succeed in her business venture, don’t you?”

“I suppose.”

He pulled out the second sandwich and handed it to her. “I don’t really need two of these, so if you haven’t eaten already, you may as well join me.”

“
Danki.
I haven’t eaten yet.”

They sat in companionable silence for a time.

“Martha’s concerned that something might be bothering Grace,” Judith said, breaking the silence. “Have you noticed anything unusual about the way she’s been acting lately?”

Roman squinted as he contemplated her question. “Well, she didn’t have a whole lot to say during supper last night, but as you know, Grace is often moody and quiet.”

Judith gave a slow nod. “Leastways, she has been since she returned to Holmes County four years ago.”

“Maybe she’s just feeling naerfich about her upcoming wedding.”

“I suppose she could be nervous.” She inhaled deeply and released a quick breath, causing the narrow ties of her white
kapp
to flutter. “I’ll keep an eye on things, and if I notice her getting cold feet, I’ll have a little talk with her.”

Roman snapped his lunch pail shut and handed it to her. “Sounds like a good idea. It took Grace some time to settle down and find a good man, so we wouldn’t want her to change her mind about marrying Cleon at this late date.”

Judith’s head moved slowly from side to side. “No, we surely wouldn’t.”

Chapter 5

The following day as Grace approached the booth where one of her customers sat, she glanced out the window and caught sight of Gary standing on the sidewalk in front of the gift store across the street, talking to Cleon. She flinched. Maybe Gary knew she planned to marry Cleon. He might be trying to turn Cleon against her by spilling her secrets. Maybe she wouldn’t marry Cleon in two months, after all.

Grace gripped the water pitcher in her hands so tightly that her fingers turned numb. She ordered her runaway heart to be still. She was doing it again—worrying about things that probably hadn’t happened. Knowing Gary, he was most likely making small talk with anyone willing to listen, the way he used to do when they were teenagers. Or maybe Cleon had stopped to ask if Gary knew the time. He often did that whenever he’d forgotten his pocket watch.

Grace felt relief when Cleon finally turned and walked away. The water in the pitcher sloshed as she hurried across the room, knowing she needed to wait on the young English couple who had taken a seat in her section of the restaurant.
I’m sure it was nothing to fret about,
she told herself.
Oh, I pray it was nothing.

Grace had just finished taking the English couple’s order when she spotted Cleon entering the restaurant. He took a seat in a booth near the front door, which was in her section.