The Protector (13 page)

“So you think Ella and me might be a
gut
match?”

“Perhaps. But it doesn’t really matter what I think, Loyal. All that matters is what you think.”

“I don’t know . . .”

“Loyal, nothing needs to be decided now, does it? You and Ella have plenty of time to figure things out, don’tcha think?”

He looked at Graham in surprise. “You know, that’s the first thing you’ve told me that makes any sense!”

“Hopefully it won’t be the last,” Graham said dryly.

Chapter 21

A
fter Mattie and Lucy returned from the latest doctor’s appointment, Mattie sat down with her mother and told her the news. Another surgery had been scheduled.

As she’d expected, her mother struggled with the doctor’s recommendation. Now her mother was wringing her hands so hard, Mattie feared they were about to fall off. “Oh, Mattie. I just can’t believe you’ve got to have another operation in two days. What are we going to do?”

Mattie struggled to keep her voice steady and her expression neutral. Inside, however, she was doing the exact opposite. The doctor’s news had shaken her to the core.

“We are going to need to remove this cyst right away, Mattie,” he’d said, his expression grim.

“But it’s not cancerous, right?”

“I don’t know.”

She’d wanted to lash out at him. To tell him that after all the rounds of chemotherapy, she was supposed to be cancer free forever.

But instead of offering her any words of encouragement, he’d just looked at Lucy. “Trish will come in and schedule Mattie’s appointment. Then she’ll direct you to the lab. We’re going to need more blood.”

Mattie had sat there, fuming. Feeling completely ignored. Ineffectual. “But,
Doktah
—”

He turned to her with sympathy in his eyes. “I
am
sorry, Mattie,” he murmured before leaving. “I will pray for you.”

“Bayda?”
she fairly yelped as he left the room.

Lucy pressed a hand to her arm. “You’re speaking Pennsylvania Dutch, Mattie.”

With some dismay, Mattie realized that she was. Which brought her into a deeper depression—usually, she always did her best to speak proper English with all the medical personnel. Speaking that way made her think she was on more even ground with them.

For her to slip into
Deutsch
meant she was really rattled.

And now it was all she could do to stay afloat as she tried her best to comfort her mother. “Mamm, we mustn’t get too concerned,
jah
? We’ve been through worse.”

After wiping her eyes, her mother straightened and attempted to smile. “Mattie, of course you’re right. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to burden you with my worries. Of course everything is going to be fine.”

“I bet so, too,” Mattie replied. “I bet this is just a precaution.”

“Definitely.” She clapped her hands. “We need only to keep busy and not dwell so. God didn’t bring you this far for no good reason, ain’t so?” She rubbed her hands on the skirt of her dark gray dress. “I know! I think we should make ice cream. Don’t you? It’s the only thing that will cool us off on such a hot day. What flavor shall we make?”

“Vanilla?” Mattie blurted.

“That’s what I was thinking, exactly.” Reaching out, she grasped Mattie’s hand.

Her mother’s hand was cold. Cold with fear, Mattie assumed. Exactly the way she felt, too.

Even so, they looked at each other and smiled before heading into the kitchen to begin their task.

Both pretending that neither was worried at all.

B
ishop Howard stared so hard at Ella, she could practically feel his piercing gaze burn into her skin.

“These things you’ve told me are hard to believe,” he said quietly.

Though her palms were sweating, she looked right back at him. “I know.”

“But they are the truth,” Loyal spoke up. “I’ve witnessed much of what Ella is telling you.”

“Oh, I believe you, Ella. I’m just greatly disturbed.”

Pure relief filled her as she looked at the man who’d done so much for her mother. He’d visited their house almost daily at the very end of her mother’s life. For that, Ella would always be grateful. “I haven’t known what to do. Dorothy has been a good friend to me. But these things she’s done . . .”

Her voice drifted off as she tried to find the words, the right words to convey her sense of worry and loss. “These things she’s done have begun to make me feel afraid,” she finally said. “Last night I could hardly close my eyes. I don’t feel safe. I don’t want to hurt Dorothy, but I also am starting not to trust her.” Finally, she added, “Quite simply, I’m at a loss of what to do now.”

“I’m glad you came to speak with me. I’ll pray on this and then will visit with her.”

“See, Ella, you are not alone,” Loyal said, his voice full of encouragement. “Together, we will all help you. I promise.”

After a few more minutes of conversation, Ella left the bishop with Loyal at her side. Though the day was warm, Ella was glad to stretch her legs. And for the time to visit with Loyal. Earlier, they’d also walked together, from Loyal’s farm to the bishop’s home.

“Do you feel a little better?” he asked.

Glancing his way, she found comfort in the honest look of concern in his eyes. Suddenly, she realized that she wasn’t alone, carrying these worries.

Loyal—along with God—was right there with her and wasn’t going to give up on her, either. “I do,” she said softly. “Though nothing’s been decided, I was grateful to share my burdens.”

“Don’t make it a one-time thing, Ella. My shoulders are broad enough to carry your worries.”

As Ella thought about how much he’d gone out of his way for her over the last few weeks, she glanced his way again. “Loyal, I want you to know . . . that I truly feel grateful to you. Over and over, you have done so much for me. And you didn’t have to do any of it.” Privately, she wondered why he had. After all, she had nothing to give him in return.

“I haven’t done all that much. Just encouraged you to talk to some people.”

“I wouldn’t have spoken with the bishop if not for you.”

“Maybe not today, but eventually you would have.”

“You sound so certain. Why?”

“There’s a strength in you, Ella. A strength that shows you are used to being independent. You are a formidable woman.”

He was smiling, and before she knew it, she was smiling, too . . . at the image. She, Ella Hostetler, a formidable woman? How could that be?

Usually she was always the one person who tried to blend in with the wall, not assert her will. “I’ll take your words as a compliment.”

“You should! You are a remarkable woman. And helpful, too.”

“How so?”

“Well, you’ve helped us with Katie.”

“Katie? That was no trouble. Katie is a dear. Such a joy.”

“Such a handful,” he corrected with a laugh. “We love her very much, but she has her moments that try my patience.”

“As do we all.”

Loyal blinked. “You’re right. My brothers and I like to tease about Katie, but above all, we are always grateful for her.”

“Oh, I know that. As for Katie, I have a feeling that she just wants some attention,” she murmured, thinking for a moment of her own childhood. She’d loved her family dearly and had never minded being an only child. She’d simply accepted it as the way it was.

But sometimes, when she’d looked at her parents and witnessed a look pass between them, she’d feel left out. Like the proverbial third wheel.

And in her awkwardness, she’d attempted to be a little louder to get their notice.

But, of course, her noise and fussing hadn’t created the results she’d craved. Actually, all that had happened was she got sent to her room.

In no time, Ella and Loyal reached the farm. Unable to stop herself, she scanned the yard, looking for changes. There were many.

“You’ve been busy,” she said. “Why, you’ve whitewashed the barn and weeded all the flower beds.”

“I’ve been making my brothers come over to help.” Looking as eager as a child, he stepped toward the front door. “Would you . . . I mean, do you want to see how the finished floors turned out?”

“Of course.”

He held the door open as she walked inside. But the moment her foot touched the smooth planks, now stained a dark cherry red, she couldn’t contain her gasp. “Oh, Loyal, everything looks so different!”

“It’s the floor . . .”

“Look how much whiter the walls are!”

“I painted those, too.”

She turned, noticed that the curtains that her mother had made for the kitchen had been taken down. Now only shiny white window frame and a clean, bright window appeared over the sink.

“The curtains are gone.”

“Yes,” he sputtered. “They were pretty, but not really to my taste.”

She’d always thought those curtains were ugly. Actually, she’d never seen the need for them in such an open house surrounded by land. “Whose taste do you think they were?” she asked, doing her best to keep her expression earnest and thoughtful.

Right in front of her, Loyal looked positively tongue-tied. “Well, I don’t know—”

Feeling sorry for him, she pressed her hand to his arm. “I’m teasin’, Loyal. I never liked those curtains.”

“Truly?”

She nodded. “Truly.”

“Whew. It’s nerve-racking, not knowing how to act. I want to show off the changes, but I don’t want to hurt your feelings.”

“Loyal, I’ve told you that I would’ve liked to have made changes. I just wasn’t able.”

“Yes, but those changes were your ideas, not mine.”

“I like your changes. I promise.” With a bit of a shock, she realized that she still held her hand on his arm. And that she was standing too close to him.

Her eyes widened. Just as he slowly reached out and held her waist. Not hard. Gently. To hold her in place.

Her breath hitched. No man had ever held her before. And now she couldn’t imagine another man’s embrace ever feeling so right.

Their eyes met. His eyes flickered. A new awareness entered in them, and it had nothing to do with pity or worry or being a protector.

It all had to do with being a man and a woman together and the awareness that came from being alone. It had to do with attraction and desire and all the things she’d dreamed about but had at times resigned herself to thinking that those things might never happen for her.

Loyal swallowed. Ella found herself watching the muscles in his neck shift and move.

Noticed a faint band of perspiration on his brow.

And for just a split second, she imagined stepping closer to him, finally kissing him. The two of them declaring their love.

All such foolish, foolish things.

With a start, she stepped back. “I should probably get on my way.”

Loyal mirrored her movements, stepping back, too. “Oh. Yes. Of course. I’ll take you back right now.”

She turned and walked out in a rush, feeling her cheeks heat, her feet stumble.

Because all she wanted was to feel his touch again. To feel, for one more moment, that she was a woman. A pretty woman. Worth his time.

Worth everything.

Chapter 22

“S
o how is Jenna? How was your time at the arts-and-crafts fair?” Mattie asked, feeling proud of herself. Why, she sounded truly concerned and interested. Terribly friendlike.

Graham shrugged as he stretched his legs in the back of the van. He’d elected to go with her to the doctor when Lucy had bowed out suddenly, saying she’d caught a bug and wasn’t feeling too well.

Though Mattie hadn’t minded going alone, she would be lying if she said she wasn’t thankful for Graham’s companionship.

“Jenna is fine. She seemed to enjoy the craft fair.”

“That’s all the information you’re going to share? Come on, Graham. Surely even you can spare me a few more details!”

“Even me?”

“You, Graham Weaver, are notoriously closemouthed.”

“There’s not much to tell,” he finally said. “Jenna walked by my side and we looked at the quilts.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“Did you enjoy being with her?”

“I did. Well, somewhat.”

“What happened?” She thought for a moment. “You didn’t start talking about cows and horses and goats did you?”

A muscle in his cheek jumped. “What if I did?”

“No one wants to hear about the antics of barnyard animals.”

“You do.”

“Well, I’m different.”

“To answer your question, no. I most certainly did not start telling Jenna about Bridgett. But I’m sure if I had, she would have been most entertained. Bridgett is a most entertaining cow.”

“She’s still a cow, Graham.” Growing more curious, she said softly, “What happened?”

“Nothing. We talked. She smiled. I enjoy being around her. We made plans for me to visit her at her home one evening next week.”

“But?”

“You know me too well, don’t you?” he said dryly.

“You could say that.” Some would say she knew him best of all.

With enough drama to appear on the stage, he sighed. “All right, Miss Nosypants, here’s the problem. She bored me. Though I did talk to her about the chickens”—he held up a hand to stop her teasing—“and about my intention to apply for work at the garage-door factory this fall, she wasn’t too interested in either subject.”

“What did she want to talk about?”

He shrugged. “Mattie, I have no idea. Most of the time, we just looked at the art and commented on the weather. It was a long evening.”

Delight raced through her. With effort, she tried to tamp it down. “Truly?”

“You sound happy about it.”

“I’m not happy,” she said as all too soon Charlie pulled up to the circular drive in front of the medical center.

“You sound happy,” Graham countered as they got out, waved goodbye to Charlie, and stepped into the air-conditioned lobby of the medical center.

As the cold air fanned her cheeks, all their jokes slipped away and the focus of their day fell on her shoulders.

The weight of it felt overwhelming. Mattie steeled her spine. “It’s, uh, this way.”

“Hey,” Graham said, “are you all right? Do you want to wait a moment before we go in?”

“Of course not. Besides, more often than not I have to wait for a long time.”

Looking her over, his expression held none of the amusement that had made the ride seem so short. “Is there a purpose for this visit? You never said.”

“Yes. It’s . . . the purpose is to give me the results of the latest biopsy.”

“You didn’t tell me you had another one.”

“I know.”

His touch stopped her. “Mattie, what happens if it’s bad news?”

“If it’s cancer?” At his nod, she flinched. “I don’t know.”

“All right, then. Let’s go hear the news.”

Suddenly, she was afraid. “Graham, I fear I must warn you—at these appointments . . . I’m not always at my best.”

As he opened the doctor’s door, his expression changed, turning as amused as ever. “Not to worry, Mattie. I’m used to that.”

D
orothy knocked after 9:00 that evening. The moment Ella opened the door, Dorothy marched in, purpose emanating with every step.

For a moment, Ella considered asking her to leave. The feelings of warmth and friendship she’d once felt for Dorothy were fading away. Now, it seemed, there was only a lack of trust.

Well, she
felt
a lack of trust.

“What is it that you want, Dorothy?”

“That’s all you have to say?”

“It’s not. But it might be all that is suitable to talk about this evening.”

Without being asked, Dorothy sat. Temper simmering, Ella watched her friend’s face as she visibly attempted to get the best of the situation.

As the seconds passed, Ella realized her patience had passed as well. “Dorothy, why are you here?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“I’m listening. But only for another two minutes. Then it will be time for you to go.”

“All right.” She sighed. “Ella, why have you left me?”

“You need to explain yourself.”

“When I offered you this place to stay and put in my recommendation for the job, you promised you were grateful.”

“I am.”

“But you haven’t shown it. Why, you haven’t acted appreciative at all! Instead of spending time with me—like you promised—you’ve been darting off with other people.”

“Dorothy, we’ve already talked about this. I am paying you rent. I am working at the library. While it is true you did much for me, it is also true that I don’t owe you anything.”

Her face grew darker. “You sent the bishop to talk to me.”

“I spoke to him about your actions. He was the one who wanted to speak with you.”

“Because you made up lies about me.”

“You have been entering my home uninvited and went through my trash. That dinner was rotten, Dorothy.”

“If you had been with me when I cooked it, you would have liked it.”

“But what you are doing makes no sense! Why in the world would you do such a thing? You had to know actions like that would only make me want to pull further away from you.”

“Ella,” she said softly. “You don’t understand. All my life, I’ve lived on the outside. My family left me. Then my boyfriend rejected me. Since then, I’ve been only by myself. And then we became friends.”

Her voice turned softer, sweeter as she looked beyond Ella to a place where her memories laid. “Do you remember the first time we met? You had just left the optical shop and were fingering your new eyeglasses. I told you they looked nice. And you, Ella, said thank you, and that no one had ever complimented you on your glasses before.”

That had been four years ago. Back before her parents had passed away and all Ella could think about was herself. She’d been seventeen and aching to be smaller framed and smaller in size.

It had been a Monday, she knew, because she’d also still been smarting from Corrine’s news. She and Peter had announced their engagement at church the day before.

And instead of feeling happy for her best friend, she’d been overcome with jealousy.

She’d spent the entire time at the singing eyeing Loyal Weaver and the way he’d had smiles for all the girls . . . except for her.

Ella realized now that the reason he hadn’t smiled at her had been because she hadn’t smiled at anyone that evening. She’d been so shy, so worried about saying the wrong things, that she’d kept to herself. And so, of course, everyone had kept their distance.

Yes, back then, she’d had a child’s view of the world—a selfish way of thinking, filtering everything done and said around her through an insecure haze. And Dorothy, being ten years older, had fed her insecurities and doubts.

Now Ella was starting to realize that Dorothy had wanted her to also be alone. That far from giving, she’d been taking from Ella—all in the hopes that Ella would fulfill her own selfish desires.

“I remember that day, well,” she murmured. “I was so grateful for your compliment about my new frames.” Oh, how self-centered and insecure she’d been! Now her vanity shamed her.

Dorothy stood up. “Then you must also remember how happy you were to have me. You needed me. You needed a friend.”

She had appreciated Dorothy’s friendship, but their relationship wasn’t near as one-sided as Dorothy was painting it. “You needed a friend, too.”

“We still need each other. I’m sure of it. Ella, you might think that you have a lot in common with your other friends, but you don’t. People like Corrine won’t stick around.”

“Of course she will. Corrine and I have been friends for years.”

“But she’s married. You likely never will be.”

The harsh statement stung. And now that she had her job and was learning to reach out to other people more, Ella felt sure, with God’s help, she would meet her perfect man. “Of course I will, Dorothy.”

“No one is going to want you, Ella.” Looking her over pityingly, Dorothy said, “Surely you don’t think someone like Loyal Weaver is going to court you. Do you? ”

Right then and there, old worries and doubts rushed forward, nearly drowning her new attitude.

And then, to her amazement, Ella thought of Katie. And that’s when she realized—remembered—that merely being “good enough” for someone wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted to be as strong and willful as that little girl. She wanted to learn to push in order to get her way.

“Whether Loyal becomes my beau or not is none of your concern.”

“It is. I had plans for us. You were supposed to always be there for me. You are going to be just like me one day.”

“No, I’m not. What did the bishop say?”

She turned away. “About what you might expect. He reminded me of my position in our community. He talked about friendship and prayer.” Looking back at Ella, pure scorn and derision mottled her cheeks. “But he knows nothing.”

“Dorothy, you should listen to him.”

“I know Joseph. I’ve known him for years. And I remember when he wasn’t the
bishop,
but merely a young man doing foolish things.” She lifted her chin. “He once got caught having a buggy race late at night. I reminded him of that.”

“And what did he do?”

“Oh, he pretended it was nonsense, and a long time ago. But I reminded him that our past never leaves us. We are who we are. I am always going to be too outspoken and smart for most of the people in our community.” She lowered her voice. “And you, Ella, are always going to be too tall and plain for the likes of the man you want.”

Ella shook her head.
“Nee.”

Dorothy stepped forward, her expression earnest. “Don’t you understand, Ella? You can rush forward and make a fool of yourself, but you can never ignore the past. It’s always there, like a light on the back of a buggy. It’s always there, shining like a remembrance. Making sure you will never forget.”

Walking to the door, Ella opened it. “It’s time you left.”

“I’ll leave, but promise me that you’ll take heed to my warnings?”

“I cannot do that.”

Dorothy turned to face her. “Why won’t you listen to me?”

Gripping the edge of the door, Ella said, “For the first time, I think I’m hearing
everything
you have to say, loud and clear. This is my two week notice. I’ll be leaving here soon.”

“You can’t.”

Dorothy spoke with such certainty, it almost made Ella smile. What did she think Ella was going to do? Listen to her and meekly follow directions?

“Of course I will.”

“We have a contract.”

“No, we don’t. And even if we did, you would have to agree that you have already broken our agreement when you violated my privacy.” As Dorothy continued to stare at her in shock, Ella said, “It must be obvious to you now. You can’t shape me into the person you’d hoped I would be.”

“I never wanted to mold you. I only wanted you to be the person you pretended to be. The person you said you were . . . which you are not.”

“I am sorry, but I’m afraid that’s not going to happen.”

“You’ll regret this.”

“Perhaps. But it is time you left.”

“I want you out before two weeks’ time. I want you out of here, out of my home, as soon as possible.”

“I’ll do my best to leave quickly.”

“It won’t be soon enough.” One last, malevolent look punctuated her face before she turned, opened the door with a jerk, and left.

But instead of feeling relief that Dorothy was gone, Ella now felt even more scared. She was completely alone, and because of that, more vulnerable than ever.

Ella was starting to realize that Dorothy was even more dangerous when she couldn’t be seen than when she was in plain sight.

An edgy sense of foreboding flowed through Ella. And as she turned the deadbolt on the front door, she considered propping a chair against it, too.