The Keeper (15 page)

“Hello,” the man said to M.K., smiling broadly. “Have you shook any puppy’s paws lately?”

“Not hardly. I still don’t have a dollar to spare.”

He pointed to the magazine cover. “Are you in need of money?”

“I’ve got a plan to help someone in my family, but I need to figure out a way to pay for it.”

The man in the panama hat rubbed his chin. “I might have an idea for you.”

Three days later, the Lapp family was sitting in the kitchen having dinner when Annie stopped by. Julia invited her to join them, so Sadie made a place for her at the table and Fern filled a plate for her. Annie sat in her chair, prettily. Her laugh tinkled like wind chimes. She moved more food around her plate than she ate. The sparkle of her gaze played back and forth over everyone, always ending to linger on Menno.

Julia kept a close eye on Menno’s behavior. She noticed that he often rubbed his chin—probably to make the point that he shaved. Normally, he stood quietly at the edge of a conversation. Tonight, when M.K. asked him a question, he pitched his voice way down below his bootlaces. He was too bashful to chance a look at Annie, but he drank in her every word. He was wide-eyed with wonder.

At one point, Annie reached out and touched Menno’s wrist. Julia didn’t draw a breath until Annie’s hand slipped back in her lap. Menno stared at his wrist where her fingers had been. Julia saw it and didn’t like it. She noticed how red his cheeks had become. As red as a ripe tomato! Who could miss them? They were on fire.

It was lunchtime at the schoolhouse, and the sun was high in the sky overhead. M.K. waited until the big boys were involved with a softball game and motioned to the girls to follow her behind the girls’ outhouse. Mary Kate explained she had a new game to teach them. A secret game.

M.K. placed three small seashells on the top of a sawed-off tree trunk.

Alice Esh, a timid thirteen-year-old who spoke in a whisper, was first in line.

“Cross my palm with silver,” M.K. told Alice, holding her hand up.

“What?” Alice whispered.

“Gimme a nickel, Alice,” M.K. said.

She put Alice’s nickel next to one of her own, and then placed a dried-up pea under one of the shells. “Watch the shell that’s got the pea, Alice.”

Alice nodded, wide-eyed. M.K. moved the shells around and around until Alice looked cross-eyed. Then M.K. stopped. “Okay. Pick the one with the pea.”

Alice pointed to the one in the center. M.K. pulled it off with a flourish. Nothing! Alice, who was naturally pale, went even paler. M.K. covered Alice’s nickel with her palm and slipped it into her shoe. “Next!”

Later that same day, M.K. and Menno were in the barn, watching Lulu and her puppies. The door slid open, letting in the feeble light of an overcast afternoon, and in walked Rome. Lulu scampered across the floor and flung herself at Rome, knocking him off balance in her exuberance so he nearly lost his hat.

“She doesn’t usually take to strangers,” Menno said. “You should feel real good about that.”

Rome bent down to scratch Lulu behind the ears. “I do. I surely do.” He looked up at Menno. “Fern’s looking for you. Said you were supposed to be weeding the peach orchard.”

Menno nodded. “I started. But then I thought I’d better check on Lulu.” He set off toward the orchard at a leisurely pace.

Rome went over to Amos’s tool bench and scanned the wall pegboard. “I’m looking for some tools to get that broke window fixed.” Lulu followed behind him and sat by his feet.

M.K. sidled up to him. “I have a favor to ask you.”

Rome looked at her, amused. “And what would that be?”

“I need some help.” She held out a heavy bag of nickels. “And I’m willing to pay you handsomely for your time.”

“What kind of help are you talking about?”

“The romance kind. I need you to make Paul Fisher jealous. Over Julia.”

Rome folded his arms across his chest. “Call me crazy, but it sounds like you’re meddling. Or getting ready to meddle.”

“Not at all!”

“M.K., I’m a believer in letting nature take its course.”

“I am too. But sometimes nature needs a little help.”

He was silent for a while. Then he picked up a hammer and a wedge. “Just what do you have in mind?”

She jumped up on the workbench. “I’m thinking you take her home in your buggy after Sunday church. So word gets around that Julia has a suitor.”

“Is this your idea?”

She nodded, pleased with herself.

“Why me? There must be plenty of fellows who’d be delighted to take your sister home in their buggy.”

“There are! Plenty. First, I thought you were too old on account of your hair is gray. But then Julia told me that you aren’t so very old at all!”

Rome held back a grin. “There are some who find my gray hair to be distinguished looking.”

M.K. shrugged, unimpressed. “So once I started giving you some serious consideration, I decided you were the ideal candidate.” She held up two fingers. “Reason number one. You and me, we understand each other.”

Rome held back a grin. “You mean, trouble knows trouble.”

M.K. waved that off. “I meant we both like to fix problems for folks.” She picked up a screwdriver. “That’s what you’re doing, right now. You saw we needed some help around the farm and you’re pitching right in.”

“What’s reason number two?”

“You are just the fellow to make Paul green with envy. You have a history of being admired by the ladies. You’ve given a buggy ride to just about every pretty girl in the district . . . maybe two or three districts . . . and if Paul thinks you’re finally getting serious about his girl, he’ll be in a hurry to marry Julia before she changes her mind and falls in love with someone else.”

“Now, you bring up a serious concern. What if Julia falls crazy in love with me? That’s a very real danger.”

Boys! So unobservant! “Not a chance. She’s only got eyes for Paul. And besides . . . you deeply annoy her.”

Rome rubbed the back of his neck. He stayed silent for a moment, then said, “So what makes you think she’ll go with me on this important buggy ride? That could be uphill work.”

“You leave that to me.” She hopped off the bench. “Do we have a deal?” She stuck out her hand.

But Rome wasn’t quite ready to seal the deal. “I was under the impression that you were not a fan of Paul Fisher.”

“Aw, Paul’s all right. It’s his brother Jimmy that I take a serious objection to.”

“What’s so bad about Jimmy?”

“What’s so bad about Jimmy?!” She started to sputter. She felt her face turn a shade of plum, but she couldn’t help it. “Why . . . he’s horrible, that’s what’s so bad about him! He’s the kind of fellow you should never
ever
let turn a jump rope because he’ll trip you sure as anything. He takes the girls’ lunches and throws them high in the trees. Why, it’s practically a holiday at school when Jimmy’s home sick. It just doesn’t happen often enough.”

“That does sound like a fellow to avoid.” He tried to hold back a grin. “But you’d give Paul a chance to turn the jump rope?”

“I suppose.” She shrugged. “Julia says she loves Paul. That’s all that matters. So . . . deal?” She stuck out her hand again.

Rome looked at her open palm. “I need to think this over before I agree. And I want you to make one thing absolutely clear. I’m not hiding anything from Julia. No deceit.”

Uh-oh.
M.K.’s eyebrows shot up. She hadn’t expected Rome to be a rule abider. Why, he sounded as straight an arrow as Julia! This created a problem. If Julia found out M.K. had cooked this up, she would be facing a year of extra choring on top of her current never-ending round of chores. “But . . . she doesn’t have to know that I’m a part of this, does she?”

“You don’t think she could figure that out?”

“Julia doesn’t know everything. She just thinks she does.”

Rome laughed and shook her hand.

M.K. walked to the barn door and turned back to Rome as she pulled it open. She lifted up the nickel bag. “And there will be a bonus in there for you if Paul sets a wedding date and sticks to it.”

“M.K., I have to ask. Are you coming by this money honestly?”

It was a scandal how the finger of blame pointed to M.K. on a regular basis. “Absolutely! I’m working myself to the bone for it.” She slid the door to a close, but just before it shut, Rome called to her.

“M.K., wait! Why is it so important to you that Julia get back together with Paul?”

She took a deep, dramatic breath. “’Cuz we’re sisters,” as if that explained everything. “You should be glad you haven’t got any sisters. They are a continual worry.”

How to explain about Julia? Rome had known her for five or six years; she was a face that belonged at Amos Lapp’s farm. If he’d seen her on the street or in a crowd, he probably wouldn’t have noticed her. So many women tried to catch his attention, how was he supposed to notice the ones who didn’t?

He had never even thought her particularly beautiful. Yet in the last few days he thought she was the most striking woman he had ever known—tall and slender, with thick and shiny chestnut hair that refused to stay tightly pinned. On any other woman, her full bottom lip would have been petulant, but on her, it was . . . well, he had trouble keeping his eyes off of those lips of hers. Rome was finding that he couldn’t get Julia Lapp out of his mind.

Surprised by the mere possibility that he might ever find her appealing in any way, he wasn’t prepared to pose the question to himself of why he found Julia’s opinion of him so important. Why did it matter? He would be moving on in a few months, anyway.

It was just that Julia had taken such a powerful dislike to him, which was more than a little disconcerting, since she was female and he was . . . well, he was Roman Troyer. He wasn’t puffed up with himself as she often accused him. It was just a fact, the same kind of fact that he was six feet tall, with dark eyes and gray hair. He seemed to have some kind of effect on women that made them predisposed to him, with very little effort on his part. It had always been so and he never understood it, though it had some distinct advantages. A steady supply of offers for home-cooked meals, clean and mended laundry.

He thought about M.K.’s proposition. He would never take her bag of nickels—the thought of how earnestly she offered it to him made him smile—but maybe she was on to something. Julia had always been single-focused about her devotion to Paul, too single-focused for her own good. And here Paul was seeing Lizzie on the sly. Maybe Paul needed to have a dose of his own medicine—to realize what he might be losing. M.K.’s plan might work. At least he could try to help.

Still, to him, only one course of events made any sense—Julia should forget about Paul Fisher. He wasn’t worthy of Julia Lapp. But Rome also knew that people rarely did what made sense, especially when it came to matters of the heart. Wasn’t he a prime example of that? Wasn’t there a pressing matter in his own life that he couldn’t make sense of?

Later that evening, he sat down to write a letter.

Dear R.W.,

If we are going to carry on this curious conversation, I would like to ask you a question. Why do you want my property? You have never mentioned any reason.