Katie's Choice (14 page)

“Only in the zoo,” he answered, much to the child’s disappointment.

“Well, that’s not sayin’ much. I’ve seen one in the zoo.”

The class burst into laughter. Even Katie Rose had a smile twitching on her lips. Zane wished he could bottle it and save it for later. Instead, he savored the moment.

Zane returned to his seat at the back of the room while Katie Rose delivered homework assignments. “Spellin’ test for the second grade tomorrow first thing.”

The smaller kids groaned.

“And math for all grades.”

This time everyone groaned until she said the magic words. “School dismissed.”

And Zane realized that he still hadn’t thought of a way to photograph the Amish.

“Can I walk you home?”

Katie Rose nearly jumped at the sound of his voice. She had thought she was finally alone and able to deal with the warmth that the fancy
Englisch
reporter sent to her middle.

“Zane Carson. I thought you’d be halfway there by now.”

He shrugged, and she noticed how broad his shoulders were. Commanding, solid. The kind of man a woman could depend on to work by her side and raise a family, build a home.

She shook away the thoughts. If God were to send a man for her, it surely wouldn’t be the
Englischer
standing opposite her desk. Standing so close she could smell the fresh scent of his shirt, the commercial shampoo he used in his hair, and something special that belonged to him and him alone.

“I thought it might be nice to walk together.”

She raised a questioning eyebrow. It would be more than nice. It would be pure temptation, a delightful way to get home.

Her hesitation, it seemed, was enough to send him into explanation. “I thought we’d agreed to be friends,” he said. “I’ve already told you that I mean no harm to you or anyone in your family. I’m here to help.”

The question was:
Who would help her if she started to care for the blond-haired man from the big city?

Ridiculous. She had control over her feelings. There was no need to be concerned. God was on her side. He would help her fight the feelings that Zane Carson sent zinging through her. Obviously it wasn’t God who was testing her, but the devil himself.

“Of course.” She smiled as if his grin didn’t melt her heart with its charm. She swung her bag across her shoulder and preceded him to the door. He stood too close as she pulled it shut and locked it behind them. She felt every steady breath, heard every beat of his heart. “We have to lock the school against vandals,” she said, her voice squeaky.

“Vandals? Are you serious?”

“
Jah
, I’m afraid so. Most of Clover Ridge is happy to share the town with us, but there are a few who do not understand our ways. They think they can bully us into changin’.”

He nodded. The wind ruffled through his hair, the sun burnishing the strands to near copper. “I understand. I grew up in a cooperative in Oregon, and a lot of people there didn’t like what we stood for.”

“A cooperative?”

“A commune. A hippie compound.”

She frowned. “What is a hippie?”

He laughed, but she could tell that he wasn’t laughing at her.

“Hippies are a lot like the Amish, but with modern clothes and without the Bible.”

“And this is where you were raised?”

“For most of my childhood.” He tripped down the steps, and Katie Rose took a big gulp of Zane-free air.

“What did you do with the rest of it?” she asked, following him down the stairs.

“My parents died in a fire when I was ten. My uncle—my father’s brother—came to Oregon and took me back to Chicago.”

“And you were close to your uncle?”

“I’d never seen him before that day. He wasn’t the easiest guy to get to know.”

“That is a sad tale, Zane Carson.” She held her voice steady as they started for home.

He shrugged. “I learned a lot from the experience. How to adapt, how to survive. It’s carried me well though my life. Though it was quite a shock to go from commune living to inner city Chicago.”

Katie Rose was careful not to let their shoulders touch as they walked side by side. “So it was like your own
rumspringa
.”

He smiled. “I guess you could say that. Tell me about your ‘run around’ time.”

“There is not much to tell.”

“What did you do? What was the one thing that you longed for?”

Even as she enjoyed her time in the world, her only heart’s desire had been what she would get when she joined the church fold: Samuel Beachy as her wedded husband. That was all she had ever wished for—even when she wore pigtails and a pinafore.

Samuel was everything she had wanted and more. A godly man, the son of the bishop, he was from a good Amish family. He was handsome and charming, destined to be a fine member in the community until . . .

“Movies,” she said. “I really enjoyed going to the movies. Eating popcorn and watching the pictures move in front of me like they were so close I could almost touch them.” She had enjoyed the movies, but it wasn’t enough to keep her from being Samuel Beachy’s wife. Even when she set out to experience the outside world, she knew she would return. There were kids who lost their raisin’ as they went out, drinking alcohol and going to parties. Most returned; some didn’t. Like her Samuel.

If Zane Carson thought she was hiding something, he didn’t let on. Instead he just nodded. “Movies are the best. It’s the one thing I miss the most when I’m on assignment.”

“Do you really write about wars, Zane Carson?”

“I really do.”

Katie Rose couldn’t help the shudder that rocked through her. So much destruction, so much heartache. “How do you do it? Watch those people suffer for no reason?”

“It’s what I do.”

That was no kind of answer.

He pressed his lips together, then shook his head as if he didn’t have the words to answer. “I can’t change the world. And I don’t leave my emotions behind. I’ve cried at some of the things I’ve seen. But there’s something about being out there, something that makes me feel . . . alive.”

“I don’t understand, Zane Carson.”

He let out a sigh. “I don’t understand it myself. I just know that’s what I was born to do.”

“Then why are you here, instead of where the war may be?”

He waited so long Katie Rose wondered if he was planning to answer at all.

“I was shot.”

Her heart stuttered in her chest, and her stomach roiled. The mere mention that he’d been hurt and could have died sent tremors through her.

“Are you okay?” He reached out to touch her cheek, but stopped, balling his hand into a fist before dropping it back to his side.

“
Jah
,” she whispered. Then louder, “
Nay.
You were shot? You could have died.”

He shrugged as if it was of no concern. “But I didn’t.”

“And then you came back? To America?”

“About six months ago.”

“And after you leave here?” She asked the question, though for sure and for certain she didn’t want to know the answer.

“I’ll go back to Chicago for a while, and then to Juarez, Mexico.”

Even the Amish knew of the troubles on the US border with Mexico. Her breath caught in her throat. The mere thought of him being in harm’s way was enough to bring tears to her eyes. She turned away so he couldn’t see and said the only thing she could. “I will pray for you, Zane Carson.”

“Thank you,” was all he said in return.

“Zane Carson!”

He looked up from where he walked the fence with John Paul, checking for any holes and weak spots that would allow the livestock to escape. So far they hadn’t found anything, but something was scaring the horses, keeping them on the run for hours on end. The poor beasts were coming into the barn each evening, lathered and exhausted.

John Paul thought perhaps a coyote might be responsible.

Zane shaded his eyes and watched as Abram approached. Saturday was upon them once again. All in all, the last week had been as good as the first. Four days of deep, untroubled sleep achieved without pills. Four days of hard, yet satisfying work. Of home-cooked meals and the best coffee he’d ever tasted. Four days since he had last seen Katie Rose.

He didn’t know why he’d told her about being shot, other than she asked and it was the truth. But his words had caused her pain for some reason. Maybe she, too, felt the pull between them. So Zane did the only thing he could do. He avoided her. He stayed away on Wednesday when she came by to take Annie to town to get some new fabric for a dress. And again on Thursday when she stopped to check the outcome of Ruth’s latest doctor appointment.

Thankfully, Ruth Fisher was a fighter. Her checkup went well. It wouldn’t be long before she’d be declared cancer free. Zane knew all the Fishers were counting down to that day.

“Abram,” he called in return.

“Get the horses readied, we need to go visitin’. Hitch ’em to the wagon. There’s work to be done.”

Among his list of accomplishments this trip, Zane had learned to hitch the horses to the buggy with expert skill. He didn’t know why the skill pleased him so, but it did. Maybe because John Paul had tried his hand at being English and drove like a blind NASCAR racer while Zane had taken to the change like a baby to his mother’s milk.

“
Jah
,” he said, lifting his hat from his head and wiping his forehead on his sleeve. He knew better than to protest about the interrupted chores. The first reason, there were always chores. They walked the fences continually searching for weak spots, holes that could damage the horses and cattle, and tracks for wild animals like the coyote they suspected was running their stock.

And secondly, he’d learned that it wasn’t a good idea to argue with Abram. He was the undisputed leader of the household. It was his way always—though Zane was certain Ruth and Annie could talk him into doing almost anything they wanted as long as they did so over a piece of pie.

“Come on, John Paul, you come, too.”

“Where are we goin’?” John Paul asked his father as they crossed the pasture toward him. Together, they all turned to walk toward the barn.

“We need to go check on old Ezekiel Esh.”

“He’s the deacon,” John Paul explained. “Very old.”

“So I gathered.”

Zane whistled for the horses. They trotted up, their coats glossy in the afternoon sun.

He loved the beasts. They were magnificent, strong, and proud. Every time he got near them he thought it a shame that man had invented the automobile.

Once the horses and wagon were ready to go, Abram loaded some tools and lumber into the back. John Paul jumped in, and they started off toward the Esh place.

Half an hour later when they pulled into the dirt drive that led to the deacon’s house, Zane remembered passing it on the way to town.

It was in need of work, a lot of work.

“Ezekiel Esh doesn’t have kin around here to help. His last boy moved off to Missouri a year ago,” Abram explained. “His wife’s been gone for a while and his daughters moved a long time ago.”

“He only had one son?”

“He had three total, but one died when he was small, and the other died in a roofin’ accident awhile back.” Abram pulled the wagon to a stop in front of the barn. It was almost as dilapidated as the house.

How sad that Esh was alone in this world, with barely anybody there to help him care for his house.

A niggling thought tickled the back of his mind. At the rate he was going, life would turn out the same, and that’s exactly why he had decided to marry Monica. No man should be alone in life.

And yet he was.

Monica. He hadn’t thought about her in days. Hadn’t called or e-mailed her in even longer. Since last week. He was a bad fiancé. A fact he made a mental note to correct as soon as they returned home.

“Why doesn’t he move close to members of his family?”

John Paul laughed as he swung down from the wagon. “That just proves you haven’t met the man.”

Abram climbed the porch steps and beat on the door. If Zane didn’t know better he’d think the elder Fisher to be angry. Abram pounded again, even louder. “Ezekiel Esh, we’ve come to fix your roof.”

The old man opened the door, face to face with his neighbor. “What?” he bellowed.