Promise Lodge (20 page)

Truman smiled, obviously delighted in the time he'd spent with her. “So happens I've got a nice, deep fish fryer at my place. Why don't you folks come over with those fish, and that way Mamm can join us. She'll be glad for your company.”

“Pick a time that suits her and we'll be there,” Preacher Amos replied.

Noah followed the various conversations as everyone headed for the lodge carrying the fish, the last cooler, and the old quilts. He took Deborah's hand. “I'm glad we had our fun this evening,” he said. “It was
gut
to hear folks laughing, after all the work we've been so intent on these past weeks. And all the
stuff
with Isaac.”

“Credit Rosetta for insisting that I set aside my inclination to leave Promise Lodge because—”

“You really were going to leave
?
” Noah's throat tightened as he tugged Deborah closer. “I thought you just said that in passing. I—I thought you liked it here, sweetie.”

“Oh, I do.” Deborah's eyes shone in the darkness, inches in front of his face. “But I let Isaac's bluster get to me, thinking he'd come back to cause trouble for the rest of you because he wasn't finished tormenting
me
.”

“He'll have to put
me
out of commission first,” Noah declared. He kissed her then, first on the cheek and then on the sweet, soft lips he'd missed even more than he'd realized.

Deborah's breath left her. “Noah? Don't lead me where you don't want me to go,” she pleaded.

“Wouldn't dream of it,” he replied before kissing her again. “Please, will you stay, Deborah? Can you be patient while I establish myself and—and make sure I can provide you a home?”

She closed her eyes. Then she nodded.

“Even if it takes a couple more years?”

Deborah gazed at him straight-on. “For you, Noah, I can be patient this time around.”

His heart danced to the music Deborah made when she said his name. Noah hugged her close for a few precious moments and then started toward the lodge. “It's been a big day, a turning point,” he whispered gratefully. “With you by my side, I feel like I can move mountains.”

“Me too, Noah.”

Silently they walked through the damp grass, surrounded by the reedy
thrum
of cicadas and a distant rumble of thunder. Noah paused before they entered the back door to the lodge. In the lamplight that spilled from the kitchen window, Deborah's honey-brown hair glimmered beneath her pleated white
kapp.
Her flawless skin glowed, crinkling slightly around her eyes when she smiled at him.

“I'm going to help with the dishes and then head for bed,” she said.

“And I'll be cleaning fish for a while,” Noah said with a smile. “Sweet dreams, Deborah.”

Chapter Eighteen

“Here you go, Aunt Rosetta,” Noah said as he came through the screen door. “Our buckets are full of fileted fish!”

Rosetta looked up from rinsing out the laundry tub in the mudroom. “Your timing's perfect. I was just getting some freezer containers ready so we can put—Truman! You're still here.”

Both men chuckled as they came to stand on either side of her.

“Hated to leave all that smelly work to Noah when I saw Amos heading toward the barn to help Roman with the livestock chores,” their neighbor explained. “We've got quite a nice catch here. I'm looking forward to sharing it over at our place sometime soon.”

Rosetta prayed that her face didn't display the same schoolgirlish glee that had rung in her voice when she'd blurted Truman's name.
He's just being thoughtful, helping Noah. Don't go hoping he's stayed to see more of you, silly girl
.

“We should set up a time to do that, so we don't get too busy and let summer slip by,” Rosetta agreed. “I feel bad that your
mamm
couldn't come and fish with us tonight. Maybe if you bring her over in your truck for dinner at our table sometime—”

“She'd like that, I'm sure.
Denki
for thinking of her, Rosetta.”

Noah smiled slyly. “I'll leave you two to tend this fish while I feed Queenie. See you Monday morning, Truman.”

“
Jah,
bright and early,” he replied. “Looking forward to it.”

Rosetta pressed the stopper into the drain of the big laundry sink and ran some cold water. She was acutely aware that Truman Wickey filled the small room with his presence—and that he showed no inclination to go home. He hung his straw hat on a peg near the door, gazing around the mudroom.

“No wonder it smells so nice in here,” he remarked as he looked at the cream-colored bars of soap lined up on her worktable. “Who's the soap maker? Not many folks do that anymore.”

“That would be me,” Rosetta replied. “I use some of the milk from my goats. When our new families arrive I'm going to give them a bar as a welcome gift.” She shut off the water and reached for the nearest pail of fish, hoping Truman didn't think she was babbling.

“Let me hold that for you.”

Rosetta's breath left her in a rush when Truman's sturdy hands steadied the bucket against the edge of the sink. He was standing so close to her that—
well, it's a
gut
thing he smells like fish, and now I will, too,
she thought as she began placing the slippery filets in the water.

“I'm glad Deborah suggested that fishing contest—and a picnic at the lake,” she said. The sound of their mingled breathing was starting to unnerve her in the otherwise silent room.

“It's been too long since I took time out for fun,” Truman agreed. “I really appreciate you folks inviting me to share your evening. All work and no play—well, you know what they say.”

“You could never be a dull boy, Truman,” Rosetta blurted. She placed a layer of rinsed filets in the plastic bin she'd prepared, shaking her head at herself. “You must think I sound as silly as—”

“Matter of fact, your voice does crazy things to me, Rosetta. Even if we've both agreed not to let such things distract us.”

Rosetta swallowed hard. She
was
distracted. “I don't want to give you the idea that I'd abandon my Old Order faith to—”

“Nor do I intend to change my Mennonite ways,” Truman insisted gently. “So now that we've reminded each other of our
gut
intentions, we can return to being two purposeful, responsible adults—as opposed to acting like a couple of kids who'd like to find a dark corner and start kissing. Or at least I would.”

Rosetta's mouth dropped open as her cheeks flared with heat. She hoped her sisters and nieces weren't still in the kitchen—or eavesdropping on this intensely private conversation from the top of the back stairs.

Truman sighed as he set aside the empty bucket and reached for the other one. “I'm sorry,” he murmured. “I didn't mean to embarrass you. And I hope I wasn't out of line when I stood behind you to steady your fishing rod, with my arms around you. No doubt everyone got ideas about
that
.”

As the memory of that moment made her tingle, Rosetta smiled wryly. “But we were surrounded by all those chaperones. And I would've lost my fish—maybe broken my line—had you not helped me.” She quickly layered the rest of the rinsed fish in the bin and snapped the lid in place.

“No harm done, then?” he asked earnestly.

“None at all.”

“
Gut
. I'd never hurt you, Rosetta,” Truman added as she drained the sink and filled it with clean water. “But then, that was also my intention when I was engaged to a nice young lady, and I lost her because she got tired of me having to be
right
. So now you know what a tyrant I can be.”

Rosetta stopped placing filets into the water to look up at him. Truman's handsome face was etched with remorse, as though he realized how different his life might be if that young lady had married him. With his sandy hair crushed from wearing his straw hat and his shirt smeared with fish blood, he looked anything but tyrannical.

“Not to worry,” Rosetta said. “As a
maidel,
I'm used to having things my way—which is the right way, of course—so you'll not stand a chance when it comes to bossing me around. Now you know what an outspoken, opinionated old biddy I can be.”

Truman's hazel eyes held her gaze for a moment. Then he laughed out loud. “Fair enough. All the more reason we shouldn't get tangled up with each other.”

“Right,” Rosetta agreed, even as his words brought intimate images to mind. “So mark that down. I allowed you to be right, Truman.”

“Yes, ma'am, you did,” he said with a grin.

After they'd layered the remaining fish in another bin, Truman placed the containers in the deep freeze while Rosetta held its door for him. She was pleased that they'd reached an understanding and had remained on good terms while they'd defused the
awareness
that filled the small mudroom. Or at least they'd tried to.

“Here—you really need to wash up before you leave,” Rosetta said as she offered him a round, grainy bar of soap. “Every stray cat in the countryside will follow you home if you don't.”

Truman smiled as he lathered his arms and hands. “Mamm would tell me straight out that I stink, so see? You can be very diplomatic rather than just bossy—but what's in this soap? Lemon, maybe?”

“And some orange oil, and the gritty texture comes from cornmeal,” Rosetta replied as she accepted the soap and washed her hands with it. “Our men seem to think it gets them clean without making them smell like girls. We women like it for freshening our hands after we've been cutting up onions.”

“I suppose you made this soap, too? I like that it's round and it fits my hands while I'm washing.”

Rosetta nodded, flushing at his compliment. “I use an oiled length of plastic plumbing pipe to mold it. The towel's hanging at the side of the sink.”

As Truman dried with one end of the towel and Rosetta used the other, she smiled up at him. “You've been a big help this evening. I'm going to send a bar of this cornmeal soap home with you—and a bar of the lavender mint for your mother,” she added as she opened the cabinet beside the sink. “Tell her we missed meeting her tonight.”

Truman nodded, his hazel eyes softening as he accepted her gift. “Walk with me partway? It's an awfully nice night out.”

Rosetta nipped her lip. She wanted to walk with him, yet maybe it was best not to encourage any further contact—and Amos, Noah, and Roman were likely to come out of the barn at any moment. They would tease her ceaselessly if they believed she and Truman were . . .

“I'll go as far as the shed—to be sure the goats and chickens are in for the night,” she added quickly. “We've heard coyotes coming around.”

Truman smiled as though he saw through her excuse. “
Jah,
out here in the countryside, all sorts of critters prowl around in the dark. And then there's me,” he teased as he playfully wiggled his eyebrows. He grabbed his hat and then held the door for her.

Rosetta's heart turned handsprings as they stepped out into the moonlit evening.
Years
it had been since she'd enjoyed a man's company so much, yet she reminded herself of the reality of their religious situations—and her dream of managing apartments for other women who wanted a more independent Plain way of life. She inhaled deeply, enjoying the perfume of the honeysuckle bushes on the breeze as they strolled around the side of the lodge. The moonlight shimmered on the rippling lake, where bullfrogs and cicadas sang their evening duet. The night sky, dotted with stars and constellations, spread forever in every direction.

“God really knew what He was doing when He created the heavens and the earth,” Rosetta murmured. “I've not traveled much, but I can't think that anywhere else is as pretty as this tract of land.”

“No place like home,” Truman said softly. “And I'm glad there's light in the windows now when I glance over here at night. I like to think it's your room I see—”

“Praise God and holler hallelujah! I think we found it, Beulah!”

“
Jah,
Ruby, there's lights on so I sure hope somebody's home!”

Rosetta's head swiveled in the direction of the approaching female voices. She hurried toward the front of the lodge, spotting two women who wore floral print calf-length dresses and white
kapps
that glowed in the moonlight as they strode down the lane. Truman jogged toward them, calling out a greeting before he relieved the ladies of their suitcases.

“You look mighty young to be the Preacher Amos mentioned in
The Budget
ad for this place,” one of the women remarked.

“Well, he's sure not the Rosetta Bender who writes the weekly column from Promise,” her companion said with a laugh. “You smell to high heaven, young man, but I'm sure there's a
gut
reason you've got fish innards smeared on your shirt.”

Rosetta's pulse raced as she covered the remaining distance to meet their guests. Could it be that their first potential residents had arrived? She didn't recall any of the letters mentioning a Beulah or a Ruby, but she sensed that these ladies were going to tell more of a story than would fit into a mere letter.

“I'm Rosetta Bender!” she said, holding her hands out to them. “This
young man
is our neighbor, Truman Wickey, and he's helped us clean the fish we caught in our lake this evening. Welcome to Promise Lodge!”

Two sturdy hands gripped hers as two sets of shining eyes gazed at her through identical pairs of wire-rimmed glasses. “I'm Beulah Kuhn and this is my sister Ruby,” the taller, stouter woman said. “We couldn't believe our eyes when we read you were setting up apartments for
maidels
—”

“But we hope it's true—and we hope you've got some places left,” Ruby cut in eagerly, “because we've packed our bags and run away from home!”

Rosetta stood speechless. She was guessing these sisters were seventysomething, and their print dresses suggested they were Mennonites. Hearing that they'd left where they'd been living after reading her column in
The Budget
stunned her. She glanced over their heads at Truman, who was smiling.

“I'll carry these suitcases into the lobby and let you ladies get acquainted,” he said. “Ruby and Beulah, I'm happy to meet you—and next time I won't smell so gamey. You're in
gut
hands if you've come to stay with Rosetta and her sisters.”

Rosetta watched Truman spring up the stairs with the luggage, and then gave him a little wave as he strode past them, heading toward the road. She was grateful that Ruby and Beulah had spoken loudly, announcing their arrival before Truman had said anything more about looking toward her bedroom.

“You might be a
maidel
now, missy,” Beulah remarked as they started up the porch stairs.

“But that fellow's got his eye on you,” her sister finished crisply. “And you're still of an age to follow your fancy, too—if he's
gut
enough for you. But never
settle
.”

“
Jah,
a life well spent alone beats being a man's slave any day. Ruby and I are living proof of that,” Beulah added before her laugh rang off the porch ceiling. “But here we are, telling you what to do before we've been here five minutes! We'd have arrived a whole lot sooner if our driver had looked at our road map instead of listening to that newfangled thingamajig on his dashboard.”

“Puh! That woman telling him to turn around while she
recalculated
was every bit as lost as he was,” Ruby insisted. As the three of them stepped into the lobby, she looked upward with an expression of sublime awe. “Ohhh!” she murmured excitedly. “Here we are, Sister, and it's even more wonderful than I dared to imagine.”

“Sure is,” Beulah replied as she grabbed her sister's hand. “I love this place already. Sign us up, Rosetta. And thank You, Jesus, for giving us the gumption to leave our brother's place and come here to find a new home.”

“Amen, Sister.”

Rosetta gazed at them, deeply touched by their remarks. “My sisters and I felt the same way when we first saw this lodge and the land around it,” she said softly. “We've been working very hard to get it ready—”