Sarasota Dreams (62 page)

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Authors: Debby Mayne

BOOK: Sarasota Dreams
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At first Ruthie felt awkward tagging along with the Polks to the house they were about to rent. However, Mrs. Polk chatted and made her feel at ease.

Ruthie wasn’t sure if Mrs. Polk knew Papa was going to offer her a part-time job, so she didn’t say anything. When they got to the house that had been set up for the Polks, Ruthie gasped. It was on the edge of Pinecraft so she rarely went by it, but last time she saw the place, she remembered weeds that had gotten so unruly they’d worked their way into the front window screens. Now the house appeared neat, tidy, and freshly painted. The lawn was mowed and the bushes trimmed. The screens had been replaced, and there was a W
ELCOME
sign on the front door.

Mrs. Polk’s voice shook with emotion as she lifted her hands to her face. “This is such a sweet little place, Jonathan. I love it.”

Mr. Polk put his arm around his wife, and she buried her face in his shoulder. She and Charles quietly stood there, waiting to go inside.

Finally, Mr. Polk pulled a key from his pocket and led Mrs. Polk to the front door. After unlocking and opening it, he stood back to let everyone else in first. As they walked through the house, Ruthie recognized various pieces from other people’s homes.

“I want to see the kitchen,” Charles said.

His father winked at Ruthie. “Of course you do, Son. That’s always been the most important room in the house to you.” He pointed in the opposite direction. “Your mother and I will take another look at the bedrooms, and we’ll meet you in the kitchen in a few minutes.”

Ruthie followed Charles to the back of the house, the most logical place for the kitchen. Once they found it, she studied Charles as he surveyed the small but functional room with a cooking station on one side and a wooden kitchen table that seated four on the other, divided by an island with a butcher-block counter. Two walls were covered with cabinets. A narrow pantry took up the small space beside the archway leading to the rest of the house. “Mom will love this,” he said. “She always said she felt lost in the big kitchen in our old house.”

“I hope you’re right,” Ruthie said. “Even if she doesn’t like it, you’ll have a place to stay until you figure out what to do next.”

“I like it,” Charles said as he leaned against the counter, folded his arms, and locked gazes with her. “After we get everything settled, I might think about striking out on my own.”

Ruthie imagined herself striking out with him, but she quickly squelched her thoughts. She had no business harboring such ideas.

“I can’t believe it,” Mr. Polk said from the door. “The whole place has been furnished from one end to the other. We don’t need to get anything to move in.”

His wife ducked into the kitchen beside him. “Someone even put a few outfits in the closet.”

Ruthie knew that Mrs. Penner had gotten some clothing donations from women who were the approximate size of Mrs. Polk, but she couldn’t imagine Charles’s mother wearing whatever she’d found. But Mrs. Polk was polite, and she didn’t let her opinion be known.

“Yeah,” Mr. Polk added. “There are a couple pairs of work pants and shirts in there, too.” He paused. “Go look in your closet, Son.”

“C’mon, Ruthie,” Charles said. “I want to check everything out.”

Charles flipped the light on in the bathroom and pointed to the counter where a basket filled with toiletries lay. “Whoa. Someone thought of everything.”

“You might not have all the things you’re used to, but …” Ruthie’s voice trailed off as she noticed Charles watching her. She shrugged. “It’ll get you started.”

“Looks like we have what we need.” Charles leaned against the wall and extended a hand toward Ruthie. “Come here, Ruthie.”

She followed his command and took his hand in hers. To Ruthie’s surprise, he pulled her all the way to his chest and wrapped his arms around her. She didn’t know what to do, but she liked the way it felt being in his arms.

“Uncomfortable?” he asked.

Slowly she shook her head. He turned her around to face him then tucked his hand beneath her chin and tilted her face upward until their eyes met. She could feel her pulse in every inch of her body, from her head to her toes.

“Mind if I kiss you?”

Before she had a chance to respond, he’d lowered his head toward hers, and their lips touched—a feather-light touch at first then a more pressing kiss. The sound of voices drawing closer alerted them, so they pulled apart.

“Son …” Mr. Polk had just come into view of them standing in the doorway of the bathroom.

Mrs. Polk had caught up with her husband by now, and her eyes twinkled with acknowledgment. She grinned at Ruthie. “This is such a sweet little house. I think we’ll be very happy here.”

Ruthie was grateful that Charles’s mother hadn’t called them out on the embarrassing situation, but she was still humiliated by the fact that his parents saw what they did. Years ago a boy had tried to kiss her, but their teacher caught them. Embarrassed, he’d teased her about it on the playground later. Ruthie was all of twelve when she vowed never to kiss a boy again. Although she knew better than to hold herself to that promise, the old humiliation made her feel like a preteen again.

She cast a furtive glance in Charles’s direction and noticed that he didn’t seem to be the least bit embarrassed. If they’d been her parents, she would have wanted to crawl into a hole and not come out for a very long time. Not even Mother and Papa had public displays of affection, although she knew they loved each other deeply.

Chapter 13

C
harles heard footsteps coming through the house. He glanced at Pop. “Are we expecting anyone else?”

“No, but plenty of people know we’re here, so it’s probably someone from a welcoming committee,” Pop said. “I’ll go check and see who it is.”

Ruthie still wouldn’t look him in the eye since the kiss, and he wanted to give her time to recover. “I guess we’re ready to move in.”

“Charles,” Pop said as he approached, “can you come outside for a minute?”

Mom started to follow, but Pop held up his hand. “Why don’t you stay here with Ruthie?” He gave her a look unlike any Charles could remember.

When Charles got to the front door, he understood why. Mr. Krahn, Mr. Hostetler, and Mr. Atzinger were all on the front porch, glaring at him as though he’d committed a crime.

Charles tried not to assume anything, so he forced a smile and nodded. “Hi there, gentlemen. This is a very nice house the people from the church found for us.”

“We didn’t find it,” Mr. Hostetler said, his voice gruff and unwelcoming. “That’s why we stopped by. In case you haven’t noticed, this community is made up of fine people who attend one of the Mennonite or Amish churches. We don’t think outsiders would appreciate our way of life.”

“We do,” Pop said.

Mr. Hostetler glared at Pop as Mr. Krahn stepped forward to assume the lead. “You don’t understand what he was saying. Pinecraft doesn’t offer what people like you need. You are still outsiders to us.”

Pop stepped forward with a finger lifted, but Charles took him by the arm and gently nudged him back. Charles spoke up. “I do understand what you’re saying, but in case you haven’t heard the news, we’re seriously considering joining your church. Our needs have changed.”

The men looked at each other and all nodded at the same time. “We don’t feel that you are coming to our church for the right reasons.”

Charles narrowed his eyes and looked directly at Mr. Krahn, who appeared to be the leader of the group. “Exactly what reasons do you think we’d attend your church if not for the right ones?”

“That is what we would like to know.” Mr. Krahn folded his arms, and the other two men followed his lead. “Maybe it is for business purposes”—he turned to Mr. Hostetler before looking back at Charles—“or maybe you want to have our blessing to court one of our young women.”

“No,” Charles said softly as he placed his arm around Pop’s shoulder. “You’re mistaken. We’ve come to know the Lord through your church, and we’ve decided to embrace everything about it.”

Charles could feel Pop’s body tense even more as they waited for the men to say something else.

Finally, Mr. Atzinger spoke up. “I for one don’t believe you, but I’m sure the truth will come out soon enough … after the fire marshal gives us the report.”

“Ya, we have reason to believe—” Mr. Krahn started.

Pop yanked away from Charles, pointing to the street. “I would like for you to leave our property now.”

“This isn’t—”

Mr. Krahn tugged on Mr. Atzinger’s arm. “Let’s leave now.”

Charles was angrier than he’d ever been in his entire life, but he had no desire to do anything but pray for the Lord’s light to shine on what was right. Pop, on the other hand, seemed to have forgotten some of what he’d learned.

“Let it go, Pop. We can’t make them believe us.”

In spite of the fact that Pop closed his eyes, apparently in prayer, Charles saw his father’s fists clenched by his sides. If the majority of the church felt the way these men did, they wouldn’t even want to be part of this church family. But most people were loving, accepting, and willing to help. The furnished rental house served as proof that there were enough kind people committed to encouraging the Polk family to make the effort worthwhile.

Pop opened his eyes and nodded. Charles could tell that he was still tense, but he’d done exactly what he’d been taught—to pray whenever sinful urges threatened.

Ruthie and Mrs. Polk had gone outside to see what was going on. While Mrs. Polk joined hands with her husband, Ruthie stood in stunned silence as the men from her church walked away without another word. She’d always known that Mr. Krahn was an angry man who resisted all change. But Mr. Hostetler and his wife had been friends of her family’s until about a year ago, when Papa caught their nephew shoplifting from the souvenir store. They’d tried to defend the boy, but since Papa caught the boy walking out of the store with the merchandise stuffed under his coat, there wasn’t much they could say. Even though Papa had decided not to call the police, the Hostetlers had pulled away and become tight with Mr. Krahn.

Charles tugged at Ruthie, pulling her from her thoughts. “I am so sorry they did this while you were here.”

Ruthie cast her glance downward. “That was terrible. I don’t know what to do.”

“There isn’t anything you can do,” he said.

Perhaps there was, Ruthie thought. Maybe she should heed Mr. Hostetler’s words and back away from Charles—at least for now—to give the Polks time to prove themselves. She feared that she was making the Polk family’s transition to the church more difficult than it needed to be, simply by being involved with Charles.

Ruthie saw Charles’s parents cast a curious glance their way before Mrs. Polk took her husband by the hand and led him back into the house. She looked up at Charles and saw the concern on his face.

She took a step away from him. “I should go home now.”

Charles frowned. “I can take you home.”

“That’s not necessary.” She swallowed hard as she continued putting more distance between herself and Charles. “Bye.”

In order to break through the tug of her heart, she took off running as soon as she stepped onto the sidewalk. When she reached the edge of the block where she needed to turn toward home, she thought she heard someone calling her name, so she slowed down and glanced over her shoulder, expecting Charles to be right behind her. But he wasn’t. He wasn’t even in sight.

Ruthie gripped the S
TOP
sign next to where she stood and bent over slightly while she caught her breath. She should have known better than to get involved with Charles—particularly at this time, with his family trying to join the church and with so many uncertainties that would cloud any relationship they could have.

The Polks’ rental house was as far from her house as it could be in Pinecraft, so it took her a while to get home. She was glad, though, because it gave her time to regroup.

“Where’s Ruthie?” Pop asked when Charles stepped back inside. Before Charles had a chance to answer, Pop gave Charles one of those concerned, narrow-eyed looks. “What just happened?”

Charles’s mind still reeled from her abrupt departure. “I—I don’t know. She told me she needed to go home, and after I offered to take her home, she took off running.”

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