Katie's Way (16 page)

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Authors: Marta Perry

BOOK: Katie's Way
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“Has this happened before?” If so, someone might have told her. She picked up a shopping bag and the bottom promptly fell out of it, scattering spools of thread on the wet floor.
“Not in many years.” Caleb stooped next to her, collecting spools and dropping them into the box he'd just picked up. He looked up and smiled, his face tilted a bit. “You're thinking I should have warned you.”
“Well . . .” She let that trail off, unable to resist returning the smile.
“And so I should, but I just didn't think of it. Too much else going on, I guess. I really didn't start getting concerned until I heard my brother talking today about how wet the fields are already.”
She picked up a sopping wet spool. “I'll lay some of these out to dry up, but they're probably a total loss.”
“I'm sorry.”
He looked so concerned that she shook her head. “It's not a problem. They were just some extra spools from my mamm's shop that she sent along. The colors weren't that popular anyway.”
Caleb took the box she'd lifted, his fingers brushing hers. She stood with her feet wet and the bottom of her skirt dripping, but the warmth of his touch flowed through her, chasing the chill away.
He cleared his throat, seeming to have trouble focusing. “So . . . um . . . different colors are popular in quilts, are they?”
“Ja.” Her own voice sounded a little funny. “With the Englisch, mostly. They want quilts that match whatever colors are popular in home furnishings, so I try to keep up with that.”
“Sounds more complicated than wood furniture.” He set the box with the wet spools on the stairs. She'd carry it up when she went.
“Well, I guess it is. But I'll bet some kinds of wood sell better than others.”
He seemed to consider that as he lifted the last box of hers. “Maybe so. But it's more about how the grain lends itself to certain pieces.” His face intent, he nodded toward the wood stacked against the far wall. “A fine, sturdy oak desk, now . . . you can't do better than that, to my mind.”
“If that's so, maybe we'd best get those pieces moved before they're watermarked.”
“Ja, for sure.” Caleb went quickly to the wood, his shoes sloshing through the water.
“Listen.” She stopped, standing halfway across the cellar, realizing what she'd just noticed. The rain wasn't beating against the narrow cellar window any longer. “I think it's slacking off.”
He angled his head, listening. “You're right. Course it might start up again, but maybe we can get ahead of it before then.”
“Ja.” Recalled to the job at hand, Katie hurried to help him with the last of the lumber. “You were wise to put these shelves up. I should have thought of that. And I should have unpacked those boxes long since, for that matter.”
“You've had plenty to do,” Caleb said. He took the piece she held and lifted it to a top shelf. “As for the shelves, my cousin William is going to help me with the furniture-making for a bit. He and I can knock together a wall of shelves for you in no time. I have plenty of odd pieces we can use, so it won't cost you.”
“That wouldn't be fair. I'd be grateful if you'd take on the job, but only if you let me pay you what anyone else would.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Then how much do I owe you for the clutter of mine you cleaned up before I got here?”
“Don't be foolish,” she said tartly. “The two things aren't the same at all.”
“I don't know about that.” He shook his head in mock sorrow, amusement glinting in his eyes. “It seems to me you ought to be getting a fair wage for all this work. That piece you're lifting now—I'll bet that would cost me a pretty penny to pay you for moving.”
She tried to keep her lips from curving. “If you don't stop this foolishness, I might have to drop it on your toes.”
“Can't let you do that.” He grabbed the board, she tugged back, and laughter bubbled up in her.
“Caleb—” Her protest died as her foot slipped on the wet floor. She lurched, dropping the board, and would have fallen, but he caught her in an instant, holding her up.
“You'd best be careful or you'll be sitting in a puddle.” His arms were strong around her, his brown eyes creased with laughter.
She clasped his arms to steady herself, feeling hard, strong muscle under the fabric of his shirt. He held her firmly, protectively, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
And then his eyes darkened, moving over her face with such intensity that it seemed he touched her skin. The dank cellar faded away, as if all she could see was Caleb.
He bent his head slowly. And then his lips found hers.
She should pull away. But instead she leaned into the kiss, feeling his arms draw her closer, his breath on her skin warming her, changing her.
Heavy footsteps sounded above their heads. Caleb drew back slowly, maybe reluctantly, looking at her with something almost questioning in his expression.
The door creaked open, and by the time Bishop Mose appeared, Caleb and Katie were several paces away from each other. Katie bent to brush off the hem of her skirt, certain she didn't want anyone seeing her face right then.
“Did you think you had to do this all alone, Katie?” Bishop Mose stepped down onto the wet floor. “The fire company is on its way with their pump. We'll have this cleaned out in no time at all.”
“Denke.” She managed to straighten, to smile at him. “In that case, I'd better go put some coffee on for everyone.”
She hurried up the steps as if someone were chasing her, knowing full well that the only thing pursuing her was her own sense of panic over what had just happened.
CHAPTER NINE
W
e'll
stop by and check on you later, but I think we got it solved.” The volunteer fire chief gave Katie a beaming smile that suggested bailing out her flooded basement was the most fun he'd had lately. “Don't you worry about it, now.”
“I won't. You have been so kind. Thank you.”
“My thanks also, Ronnie.” Bishop Mose clapped the man's shoulder. “Though I know full well that you enjoy nothing more.”
“Flooding is a challenge all right. You can put a fire out, but rising water . . . well, you can't fight that. Just try to control it.” He chuckled. “Remember what it was like in '72 with the Agnes flood? We were cut off from outside help, and we didn't get more than an hour's sleep in four days 'til the water finally went down.”
“Ach, I remember fine. It seemed like half the state was under water then. I was young enough to do something useful in those days.”
It appeared the bishop and the fire chief were old friends, and that didn't surprise Katie. Bishop Mose knew everyone, Amish and Englisch, in the valley.
“Were you a member of the fire company then, Bishop Mose?” she asked.
“First Amish volunteer firefighter,” the chief said promptly. “We couldn't run the company now without our Amish firefighters.”
“Our houses and barns are just as likely to catch fire as anybody's, ain't so?” Bishop Mose started up the steps from the cellar. “I am sorry for this mess, Katie. And you, also, Caleb. I will be over first thing tomorrow to see about improving the drainage, ja?”
“Denke.” Katie followed him upstairs, her shoes squishing with water. It would be a relief to get into some dry clothes.
Unfortunately, it would take more than dry clothes to ease the tumult in her heart. That kiss . . . how could she have let that happen?
It was no sense telling herself she'd been taken by surprise. She'd known it was coming. She'd sensed it in time to have stepped back.
Caleb probably thought . . . Her cheeks grew warm. She didn't feel anything for him. She couldn't.
She loved Eli. Even though he didn't return her love, even if he'd made a happy life with someone else, she wasn't a person who could turn off her feelings. The only thought that comforted her was the knowledge that she was faithful.
She emerged into the hallway that led to the back door. Rhoda stood there, holding a tray with the used coffee cups. She wasn't alone. One of the Englisch volunteer firefighters was with her—a boy probably about her age. He held the coffeepot, but he didn't seem to be doing anything useful with it. He leaned toward Rhoda, intent on her face as he talked.
Rhoda sparkled—there was no other word for it. Her golden-brown eyes laughed at whatever foolishness he was saying.
Obviously they hadn't heard Katie.
“Rhoda.” Maybe her tone was a bit sharper than it should have been. Both young faces swung sharply toward her.
“We're just talking,” Rhoda answered her in Pennsylvania Dutch.
Did the boy understand? Maybe, because his freckled face reddened. “I guess we're all finished here, so we'll be going.” He looked around awkwardly for a place to put the coffeepot and ended up handing it to Katie.
“Denke. Thank you very much for your help.” She tried to sound cordial. After all, the boy probably wasn't at fault. Rhoda was a pretty girl, and no doubt she'd attract boys wherever she went. But now wasn't the time, and he certainly wasn't the boy. Small wonder the parents of teenagers spent so much time on their knees in prayer.
Rhoda's lower lip pouted. She'd undoubtedly have let her displeasure spurt out, but the rest of the firefighters were coming through, rolling up hoses and depositing still more dirt on Katie's once-clean floor.
She thanked each one, trying to concentrate on them and ignore the fact that Caleb was at the end of the line. And then she couldn't ignore it any longer, because he was in front of her.
She focused her gaze on the front of his shirt, which didn't really help. It just made her notice the breadth of his chest. “Denke, Caleb. I appreciate your help.”
“And I yours,” he said, his voice as calm and natural as if that kiss had never happened. “We'll help with the rest of the cleanup tomorrow. Good night.” He nodded to Rhoda and was gone.
The door closed behind him. Now Katie had to deal with Rhoda, and it was the last thing in the world she wanted to do right then.
Rhoda didn't wait to speak her mind. “You didn't need to act as if I was doing anything—”
“I know,” Katie said quickly. “I'm sorry.”
Rhoda blinked. “You are?”
“I am, believe it or not.” Katie managed a smile, praying she was steering the right course with her sister. “I was just startled, that's all, to see one of the firefighters looking at you as if you were an apple dumpling.”
Rhoda's anger dissolved into a giggle. “He didn't, did he?”
“With whipped cream on top,” Katie assured her. She hesitated, but there was more she needed to say, and she'd best get it out now. “I know you're feeling disappointed about Tommy. I'm sorry for your hurt.”
She wanted to say there'd be other boys, but that wouldn't help right now. Besides, how did she know that was true? She'd been about Becky's age when she fell in love with Eli.
Rhoda nodded, her eyes filling with tears. She blinked them back. “Ja. But being friends with Becky is more important.”
“Komm. We'll put the cups in the kitchen and deal with them tomorrow. Just now we need to get out of these wet clothes.”
“Ja.” Rhoda peered down at her running shoes. “These will never be the same.”
They trudged up the stairs. Katie wasn't sure when she'd ever been so tired. Not just physically tired. She set the coffeepot in the sink. Heart-tired, confused, probably in need of some time in prayer.
Rhoda put down the tray. She turned as if to go to her room, and then stopped, touching Katie's shoulder.
“I'm sorry. About what I said last night. I mean, about Eli and Jessica. I shouldn't have.”
Katie's throat tightened. “It's all right. Maybe it's true.”
“You . . . You still think about him?”
She hated to admit it. But Rhoda deserved the truth, even though she wasn't sure what that was anymore.
“Ja. I forgive them. But I . . . I still can't forget. Sometimes I do for a long while, but then something reminds me.”
Something like learning that Jessica was having Eli's baby. How much did that affect what had happened between her and Caleb? Had she been longing for a kiss just to assure herself that she was still attractive? If so, that didn't say anything very good about her.
“I'm sorry.” Rhoda gave her a quick, impulsive hug. “Thank you for telling me. For acting like I'm grown-up enough to understand.”
“You're getting more mature every day.” Katie patted her sister's cheek. It seemed such a little time since Rhoda was toddling around after her, and now she was practically a woman grown. “As for understanding—well, I'm not sure I understand myself.”
Caleb's face intruded in her mind, and she tried to push it away. She would not let that be anything important. She couldn't. Too much stood between them. The promises she'd made to Eli, the woman who had left pregnant with Caleb's child . . . Those were impossible barriers to feeling anything at all for Caleb.
 
 
By
the time she'd bathed and changed into her nightgown and warm robe, Katie had begun to regain her balance. What had happened with Caleb would be quickly forgotten—he was probably as eager to do that as she was. And the flooded cellar hadn't caused near as much damage as it might have.
“Denke, Lord,” she murmured.
A tap came at her door. “Katie? I brought you some hot cocoa. Can I bring it in?”

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