Letters to Katie (34 page)
“
Gut
. We have to show John mercy. We have to respect Katherine’s decision about him, and
any other beau she might have. We can’t control her life.”
Margaret leaned her head on his shoulder. “I’m tired of seeing her hurt.”
He kissed her temple. “Just remember, God loves her more than we do. When she hurts,
He hurts for her. But He also knows what’s best. You’ve always taught our
kinner
to rely on God.”
“Time to follow
mei
own advice.”
“
Ya, lieb
. It’s all we can do.”
The day after Katherine left, Johnny sat on his front porch waiting for the Wagners
to show up. They were running late. He didn’t care. He’d spent all last night thinking
about what Katherine had said and examining his own life.
Had he measured his choices against what God wanted? He had no idea, because like
Katherine, he hadn’t put God first. He’d shoved Him far down on the list. Now he was
about to sign a contract that would change his life forever. And for the first time
he truly asked God if he was making the right decision.
The Wagners approached in their fancy car. Until the moment he saw them exit their
vehicle, he’d been a jangle of nerves. Suddenly, calm washed over him as a verse he’d
heard long ago during a church sermon came into his mind:
Be filled with the knowledge of his will in all wisdom and spiritual understanding;
that ye might walk worthy of the Lord unto all pleasing, being fruitful in every good
work, and increasing in the knowledge of God . . .
He had only been worried about being worthy of Katie. Worthy of his family. But not
once had he thought about what he had to do to be worthy of the Lord.
His father was right. Katherine was right. Everything he’d done, from buying the land
to working with the Wagners, was impulsive. And as James and Lois Wagner reached his
porch, he knew what he had to do.
“John,” Wagner said, extending his hand as Johnny stood up from the old kitchen chair.
“Good to see you again.”
Johnny shook his hand but didn’t respond. He looked at Lois, who was fixated on the
house, probably making mental notes about the bed-and-breakfast she’d create.
“Lois and I are excited about this opportunity.” He lifted his black leather briefcase.
“I have all the paperwork right here.”
“Yeah,” Johnny said, putting his hands in his pockets. “About that. I’ve been doing
some more praying”—he looked Wagner directly in the eye—“and this isn’t going to work.”
Lois snapped to attention. “What?”
“I’m sorry you had to drive all the way out here, but I can’t be your partner. I’m
not supposed to.”
Wagner’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about doing the right thing.” He let out a long breath. It was early
morning, but the sun was already heating up. Or something else was making him sweat.
“There’s nothing wrong with the idea you’ve proposed, but—”
“It’s a perfect idea,” Lois said, stepping in front of her husband.
“Not for me. I want a simple horse farm.”
“We already said you could have your little farm.” Lois crossed her thin arms. “We
even put that in the contract.”
“I’m sorry.” What more could he say? How could he make them understand, when he was
just now beginning to understand it himself? “The answer is no.”
“You can’t build your farm without our help,” Wagner said. “Not even a little horse
farm.”
“You’ll end up with nothing,” Lois added.
“Maybe that’s the point.”
Wagner glared at him. “You’re making a big mistake.”
“Not to mention wasting a huge chunk of our time,” Lois added.
“I apologize—”
“You know what you can do with your apologies,” Lois said. “You’ll regret this decision.
We’ll invest somewhere else. And we’ll be successful. We always are.”
Johnny nodded. “Then I wish you luck.”
As the Wagners peeled out of his dirt driveway, Johnny plopped down on the chair.
They were right—he had nothing.
Except God and family. And right now, that’s all he needed.
“I thought you weren’t allowed to drive a car.”
Sawyer glanced at Cora as he guided the midsized dark green sedan out of the Bylers’
driveway. “I’m not a member of the church yet. I can drive. I just choose not to.”
“Until now.” His grandmother shifted in the passenger seat. “Where did you get the
car?”
“Rental.”
“Maybe you can rent it again when you take me to the airport.”
Sawyer held in a sigh. After visiting with Laura’s mother, Cora was more withdrawn
than ever. And more determined to go back to New York. But he wanted to give her one
more chance to change her mind—not about leaving Middlefield, but about rejecting
it and the people who lived there.
“How did you manage to get a day off?” she asked.
“It helps that work is slow right now.”
That gained a little of her interest. “Is the business in trouble?”
He shook his head. “It has its ups and downs. Like any business. I’m sure you understand.”
She gave him a brief nod, looked outside the passenger window, and said nothing else.
This is going to be a long drive
. “You asked me back at the house where we were going. I want to show you around.”
“I’m not interested.”
He expected her answer, which was why he didn’t tell her the purpose of the trip.
“You needed to get out of the house.”
“I need to go home.”
“You’ve said that.”
A million times
. “When we return to the house, I’ll call the airline. Or your travel agent. Whatever
you need. We’ll get you home.”
A pause. “Thank you.”
“In the meantime, I thought you should see
my
city. Cities, actually. I wanted to give you a little tour of the area. We can stop
for lunch at Mary Yoder’s—”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Or not.”
Sawyer left it at that. Despite his grandmother’s sour mood, it was a beautiful day
for a drive. Women were out hanging their laundry on the line—and not just the Amish,
but Yankees too. The sun’s golden rays warmed the interior of the car.
As he drove down Route 87, he saw an Amish farmer standing on his plow, directing
a pair of huge Belgian horses as they broke up a patch of grassy field. It was a little
late to plant summer vegetables. Maybe he was preparing a pumpkin patch.
Sawyer realized he was lost in his thoughts, drawn to the countryside as he wished
Cora could be. But he wouldn’t force anything on her. He also wouldn’t let her leave
without seeing where he and Laura would spend the rest of their lives.
Cora folded her hands in her lap, trying to ignore her grandson’s incessant chatter.
He was like a tour guide, pointing out different attractions and businesses as they
traveled, explaining which friends lived where, even drawing her attention to “an
authentic Amish schoolhouse.”
As if she cared about any of this. All she could think about was her bleak future
and limited choices.
A few words stood out as he talked, mostly names of places.
Mesopotamia. West Farmington. Parkman. Geauga County. It all meant nothing.
Everyone else, including Laura’s mother, was overjoyed about Sawyer joining the church
and getting married. They’d gotten what they wanted. She’d gotten nothing.
It was past noon by the time they were finished with the tour. Sawyer pulled up at
a red light. A black buggy stopped next to them. Sawyer waved, and the Amish man driving
the buggy waved back. Cora’s hands remained clenched.
“So what did you think?” Sawyer asked as the light turned green and he propelled the
car forward.
“Not much to recommend it. As I thought.”
“Everyone’s entitled to their opinion,” Sawyer said, his voice sounding tight.
Cora looked at him. “I don’t know what you hoped to accomplish. Were you hoping that
once I saw green fields and horses and a cheese factory that I would suddenly accept
everything that’s happened?”
He shook his head. “I only wanted to show you a part of my life you hadn’t seen before.”
“I saw it. Let’s go.”
Before she turned away she saw Sawyer grip the steering wheel. A sudden and unfamiliar
twinge of guilt battered her conscience. He was trying. But he didn’t understand how
bitter defeat tasted.
More importantly, he had no idea how much she would miss him.
He might not embrace her values, but she couldn’t dismiss
that he was exactly what she’d told Ella Stutzman—an excellent young man. For a few
brief moments, when she could get her mind off her own disappointment, she could see
that he was successful on his own terms. And happy, so very happy. Wasn’t that what
she’d wanted for Kerry when she was young? For her daughter to be happy?
Something along the way interfered with that wish. Something had changed her definition
of bliss and made her put wealth and status before her only child. Now she had tried
without ceasing to do the same to her grandson. Like Kerry, he would have none of
it.
Couldn’t she be satisfied with his decision? Or was choosing pride, prestige, and
money over another family member worth it?
“I have one more stop to make,” Sawyer said, turning down a dusty gravel road. “It
will only take a minute.”
She nodded but didn’t speak. A thick knob blocked her throat. A swelling rose in her
chest. She fought the sudden tears that stung her eyes. How she despised sentimentality!
Yet she was unable to control the emotions surging through her.
They pulled into the driveway of the saddest piece of property she’d ever seen. The
yard was shorn and neat, but the house and barn were on the verge of collapse. A young
man wearing a straw hat, a pale yellow short-sleeved shirt, and the same kind of blue
denim pegged pants she’d seen all the Amish men wear was hammering a handmade sign
at the street edge of the front lawn.
She peered at the lettering: F
OR
S
ALE
.
Sawyer frowned. “What’s he doing?” He got out of the car and walked over to the man.
They talked for several moments, Sawyer clapping him on the shoulder in a sympathetic
gesture. But he seemed more upset than the young man did. They parted and Sawyer went
back to the car, but he didn’t put it in reverse right away.
