Katie's Choice (35 page)

Katie Rose chose to ignore it. It was better this way. No sense in getting her hopes up when she knew nothing would ever come of it. “I’m goin’ to check on Samuel.” She had left him behind a lot lately, spending more and more time with Zane. But now it was time to reclaim her place. He’d grown so independent. Maybe that was why God sent Zane Carson, to allow her to let go of little Samuel so he could grow. She just wished her heart had been spared.

He guessed correctly, and Katie Rose did not come back into the house. He couldn’t very well go chasing after her with Monica at his side. So he had to let Kate go, in more ways than one. He’d just gotten caught up in the romance of the situation. Being in Amish country, away from all the hustle and bustle of Chicago, he’d fallen into a trap of his own making.

He owed Katie Rose an apology. He hadn’t realized what he was doing, had lost sight of where he was, and who he was dealing with and how fragile she might be. He’d seen an independent woman who loved God and her family, who was beautiful inside and out, who he wanted to get to know better. He discounted the fact that she had been raised so differently from he. That she was a kind and loving person who would look upon his actions with eyes different from the women he’d known.

And now that Samuel Beachy had returned . . . well, Zane couldn’t imagine that she would do anything other than fall right back into his arms. They would probably be married before the end of January, wedding season or not.

“Zane?”

“Hmm . . . ?” He stirred the straw around in his drink, unable to lift his gaze to Monica’s.

“Is something bothering you? You’ve been so quiet tonight.”

“No,” he lied. “Of course not.” He forced a smile and finally met her inquisitive blue eyes. “I’m just . . .” He waved a hand around toward the few patrons in the hotel restaurant. It was one of the few places open in small-town Clover Ridge on Christmas Day. He settled his eyes on her. “Monica, do you want children?”

She made a face. “What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing. It’s a simple question. After we get married do you want to have a baby?”

“Zane, it’s Christmas,” she said quietly. “Can we talk about this some other time?”

Reluctantly, he nodded. Why children had been on his mind so much he wasn’t sure, but they had been. He’d watched Samuel and the other kids play this morning, everyone enjoying each other and being together. He couldn’t imagine going through life without that. Yet he couldn’t imagine bringing a child into his crazy reporter’s life.

“I bought you something.”

He cupped his drink with his hands. “For me? Why?”

“For Christmas, of course.”

“Of course,” he murmured. They had never exchanged presents before, choosing instead to take a trip if he wasn’t overseas or just Skype if he was.

“It’s nothing big,” she said, pulling a small wrapped box out of her purse.

“I didn’t . . .” He felt awful. He had bought presents for all the people he’d known for less than three months, but not for the woman he was soon to marry.

She pushed the box across the table toward him. “It doesn’t matter.”

“
Danki
,” he said.

Monica blinked.

“I mean, thank you.”

She smiled. “Merry Christmas.”

Zane opened the box. Nestled inside was a silver key ring engraved with his last name and next year’s date. It was beautiful, but confusing. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s a key ring.”

“I know that.”

“I bought it for your house key. See, I’ve got one just like it.” She pulled her key ring out of her bag and laid it alongside his.

“My apartment key?”

“Your house key. Daddy bought us a quaint little cottage in Waukegan. Part Christmas present, part wedding gift. I think he’s feeling guilty that he’s gone right now.”

“A house?” Flabbergasted wasn’t the word.

“I know, right?” Monica smiled so prettily, so excited, that Zane couldn’t express the myriad of conflicting emotions coursing through him. A touch of confusion, a lot of anger, and a bit of disbelief. What were they going to do with a house?

He didn’t even want to think about it right now. He pointed to her plate. “Are you finished?”

She nodded.

Zane signaled the waiter for their bill, paid the tab, and walked with her out into the lobby. “I’ll see you to your room.”

Her brows lowered. “Aren’t you staying here tonight?”

Zane shook his head as they stepped into the elevator. He pushed the button for her floor and watched the doors close, trying his best not to cave to the inviting light in her eyes. “I don’t think I should. I am supposed to be working.” Truth was, he hadn’t even thought about it. After living with the chaste and honorable Amish, the idea seemed cheap somehow. But he wasn’t sure Monica would understand. Better to deflect right now and fight that battle another day.

“I understand.” Her eyes told a different story, one of hurt and confusion. “My flight leaves early tomorrow. I just thought—”

“Do you want me to come to the airport with you?”

She shook her head. “That seems kind of silly, don’t you think? I mean, I have a rental. There’s no sense in you making the trip in a separate car.” Her explanation was sound, but her expression wistful.

He nodded. The elevator doors swished open, and together they stepped into the carpeted hallway.

Instinctively, Zane clasped Monica’s elbow and steered her toward her room. They stopped at the door, and he waited patiently while she dug around in her purse for the key card.

“It’s just that . . . well, I’ve missed you so much.” She raised up on her tiptoes and covered his mouth with her own.

Zane pulled her away from him. “No, Monica. I think we should wait.”

She pouted, no doubt hoping to tempt him with the shape of her lips. “Wait until you get home?”

He shook his head. “No. Wait until we get married.”
Where had that come from?
Suddenly, though, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

She took one hard step back, her eyes meeting his steady gaze. “Are you serious?”

“Very.” And he was.

She continued to stare at him. “You’ve really changed.”

He shrugged. “I guess I have.”

She paused and cocked her head to one side. “Well. It’s not a bad thing.”

“I think it’s good.”

Monica smiled, and pressed her lips to his one more time. “I’ll see you in Chicago.”

“Next week,” he promised, as she closed the door behind herself.

He’d drop the bomb about church on her once she got used to the idea of abstinence.

Ruth hesitantly pushed the door open, hating the creak of the hinges. The last thing she wanted to do was disturb Abram. He’d been so worried about her of late, worry she couldn’t dispel. Worry that she had caused.

Quietly she stepped into the room and gently pushed the door shut. One step, then two, a couple of more and she’d be to the bed that she had shared with her husband for over thirty-five years.

She exhaled as she slipped out of her house shoes and shucked out of her thick robe. Never before had she owned such luxuries, and she silently sent up a prayer of thanks to the Lord for sending Zane Carson their way. She needed a warm robe and fuzzy shoes intended only for the house. Truly she did, as the treatments for the cancer had drained away the last of her body’s stores of fat. She found these days that she was shivering even when standing directly in front of the fire. And the beautiful nativity scene. She would cherish it always.

She hung the robe on its peg and automatically reached up to pull the pins that held her prayer
kapp
in place. Her hand stilled, and she dropped it back to her side. There were no pins. There was no prayer
kapp
. A lump as hard as stone formed in her chest and worked its way up into her throat. Even the news that she was cancer free couldn’t ease the ball of ache. Heartache. She’d won. She’d fought the good fight, and the Lord had led her to triumph.
But at what cost?

A sob snagged in her throat.

The figure on the bed stirred. “Ruth?”

The sound of his voice was her undoing. One sob came, and then another. And another until her shoulders shook in the dark.

She heard the creak of the bed. “Ruthie, my Ruthie. What’s wrong?”

His arms slid around her, warm and comforting. On any other night she might have pulled away, banished him to his side of the bed, the room . . . their life. But she didn’t have the strength to fight anymore.

She laid her head on his chest, the steady thump of his heart soothing her wounded spirit.

He allowed her to cry, standing there in the dark, her arms folded in front of her, his wrapped around. His big calloused hands ran up her spine, not stopping at each bump and valley left by the weight loss. Just a smooth, steady stroke, like in the early days.

Finally her sobs turned to hiccups, and her hiccups to whimpers as he continued to hold her.

“Are you goin’ to tell me what troubles you, Ruth Ann?”

“
Nay
.” She pulled herself away from him like she had every day and night since she’d found the lump that changed all their lives. “Go back to sleep, husband. It is nothin’ to concern yourself over.”

Accustomed to the darkness of the room, Abram watched as she pulled back the covers on her side of the bed and slipped in between. He stood there in the night, disbelieving the words in his ears. He had been understanding, he had left her to her feelings, allowed her to hide her worries, permitted her to deal with the changes they’d faced in the way she saw fit. But tonight Abram had lost his feelings of generosity.

He wanted his wife back.

“
Nay
.” His voice quavered with emotion. “You tell me that it doesn’t concern me, wife, and then you wet me with your tears. If it concerns you, then it concerns me as well.”

He’d hoped to solve this in a different way, had hoped that once he brought up the subject she would allow him into the parts that haunted her.

But she turned away from him, facing the inside of the bed.

Abram stormed to the other side and dove beneath the covers before she could turn away a second time. “Look at me,” he commanded, holding her face in between his palms and forcing her gaze to his. “Look at me and tell me what causes you such heartbreak on the day our Lord was born.”

“I . . . I.” Tears welled in her eyes again.

He wanted to shake her as she faltered, force the words from her lips.

“The cost was too high,” she finally choked out.

He released a deep sigh. “When we started this, we vowed that we would pray about the money, just like we prayed for direction. Hasn’t the Lord provided all that He said He would?”

A large tear broke free from one eye and slid down her cheek. It caught the light of a stray moonbeam and glittered for a moment before falling off the edge of her chin. “It’s not about the money.”

“I don’t understand, wife. What else is there?”

“The price was
me
. My earthly body.”

He held his breath, not yet able to comprehend what she was saying.

“
I
am the price. My hair, my body, my strength. I am no longer the woman I was, and I don’t know how to be the woman I have become. I have no strength to hold up my end of the bargain we made the day we wed. I have no hair, I have no breasts. I feel as if my womanhood has been stripped away. And I wonder how long it will be before you resent all that’s been taken from me and all that you will no longer have.”