Wanted (7 page)

“Anna did them today. Together we will clean, Daughter, then we'll cook,
jah
?”

For the first time in years, Katie was grateful to get to work and be told what to do.

That evening after the girls had their supper and they were waiting for Jonathan to return, Katie led the way into the living room. “Look what my mother brought over today—fabric.” After sitting down on the couch, she spread a few of the especially beautiful pieces of cloth on her lap. The rich colors of butter yellow, dark red, and bright, vivid blue made Katie feel like she'd just brought the best of God's bounty into the room. “Aren't these fabrics pretty? Which one is your favorite?”

Hannah shyly pointed to the yellow.

Katie moved to place it on top of the others. “
Jah
, that is a wondrous color. It shines as pretty as the daffodils in May.” Turning to Mary, she said, “Which one do you like?”

“None of them.” Instead of sitting, Mary remained where she was, militantly glaring at the fabric like the swatches
were terrible intruders infringing on her routine. “We're not supposed to be here in this room.”

“Why ever not? It is a pretty room, to be sure.”

“It is the
sitzschtupp
, our special living room. It is only for visitors.”

It was on the tip of Katie's tongue to remind Mary that that was exactly what she was. She sure hadn't been treated like part of the family.

However, her mother's good example was fresh in her mind, and that gave Katie the courage to push a little harder to make inroads. Sooner or later, Mary was going to have to bend a little, surely! “There's a mighty nice fireplace, we could ask your
daed
if we could make a cozy fire and begin work on a quilt tonight.”

Though Hannah carefully nodded, Mary scowled. “He's going to say no.”

“He might surprise you. All men enjoy a new quilt.”

“I don't want to make a quilt. You're not going to make me do this, are you?”

“No, of course not,” Katie said, but had a difficult time hiding her surprise and disappointment. Quilting had always brought her a great amount of joy. It was also something she felt proud about and comfortable teaching others to do. She'd been hoping to use quilting to forge a bond with Mary.

Meekly, little Hannah tugged on Katie's sleeve. “I do. Am I too small?”

“Not at all!” Opening her arm, she moved to one side as Hannah scooted closer. “I was younger than you when
I pieced my first quilt. Mary, by the time I was your age, almost seven—why I was anxious to begin all kinds of projects.”

Mary backed away, literally pulling away from her in both spirit and space.

However, Katie couldn't let Mary do that. If she didn't make the girl do anything she didn't want, they'd never make progress. And Katie really wanted to become friends with the little girl. “Come here, Mary, and give me your time, please. This task is important to me.”

“No, I—”

“Please Mary. Sit down. I think you should try, yes? If not for my sake, then try working on this for my mother's. She was so hoping you would enjoy quilting.”

Little by little, Mary unbent enough to come forward and join her sister.

With a glad heart, Katie watched Mary try her best to join in the activity. For an instant, Mary's behavior reminded Katie of her own. She remembered more than one occasion when her attitude had not always been pleasing or kind. Mary might be going through some of the same growing pains. In a worthy imitation of her mother, Katie stated, “We're going to start on this quilt. I've decided.”

Mary's eyes narrowed. “
Daed
's still going to be upset we're using this room.”

“I will ask your father about it when he gets home.”

At that moment, the back door opened wide. “Here he is,” Hannah announced. “
Daed
's home!”

Katie heard Jonathan carefully remove his coat and hang
it up. “
Daed
, we're in the
sitzschtupp
,” Mary called out.

Slowly, he walked to them. “Hi, Jonathan,” Katie said, greeted him with a sunny smile.

Once again, he met her gaze, then cleared his throat. Somewhat gruffly, he said, “What are you all doing?”

“I was showing the girls some fabric. I'm going to teach them to quilt.” Katie grinned again, hoping her enthusiasm would catch on.

To her dismay, Jonathan didn't look encouraged. “They already have school, homework, and chores. Isn't that enough?”

Before Katie could explain how quilting gave her joy, not the burden of work, Mary snidely interrupted. “She wants to take over this room.”

A muscle in his cheek jumped. “There is no reason for that.”

Katie made a decision. “Girls, please go put your things away.”

However, Mary and Hannah did not instantly obey. Instead they looked to their father for guidance. It was only after he nodded that they stood up and walked out of the room.

When they were alone, Katie motioned for Jonathan to sit. Like the girls, he seemed terribly reluctant to do so. Instead of leaning back in the chair, he perched on it, looking eager to rise and leave at a moment's notice.

“What is it about this room that makes you uncomfortable?”

“It doesna make me uncomfortable. It's rather that it is
a special place. You see, it was Sarah's pride and joy.” His words sounded bitter. Resigned.

To her eye, the room looked as plain and unwelcoming as the rest of the house. “It is a pleasing room, to be sure.”

“I would rather you not dirty it.”

“Since I am the one cleaning, I think that option should be up to me.”

“The girls—”

“Need something to do at night,” she interrupted crisply. “You read
The Budget
.”

“Even Winnie—”

Katie was tired of being compared to his sister. “I'm sure Winnie had other things to do. Jonathan, when you asked for my help, you didn't say I had to follow your directions like a child.” She stood up and stepped toward him, consciously pulling her shoulders back and lifting her chin. “I am not a child.”

Something flashed in his eyes that she couldn't quite recognize. Embarrassment? Awareness? “I know you aren't, Katie.”

Something about the way he said her name—the way he looked at her so directly—made her heart beat a little faster. She felt flustered and at a loss of words. Suddenly she wasn't all that sure what had upset her so much. “I…I had hoped we would be getting to know each other better, Jonathan.”

As the air surrounding them thickened, he murmured, “We are.”

A second passed. Two. Katie could hardly look away.

He spoke again. “I'm…sorry if I haven't seemed appreciative of your efforts. I…I am, Katie.”

She wasn't sure what to say to that. So many feelings were brewing inside her, she felt disjointed, confused. Finally, she settled on claiming practicality. “Then, would you please help me build a fire in here? It would make this room cozy and welcoming. I'd like to instruct the girls on quilting this evening.”

After a long moment where he seemed to be at war with himself, he finally nodded. Rubbing the scar on his thumb, he said quietly, “Katie, I did not plan for this.”

She hadn't planned on many of the things that had happened at the Lundys'. She hadn't planned on feeling so alone, or having to constantly prove herself to the girls. She hadn't planned on being so aware of Jonathan's moods. Of being so excited to see him at the end of each day. Of the keen sense of disappointment when a meal passed and he'd hardly dared to look her way.

But things seemed to be changing. “I know you didn't,” she murmured, wondering if he, too, might be feeling the pull between them.

“When I asked you here, I was only thinking of my daughters. I had only wanted you to watch over them.”

“There's more involved with girls than simply making sure they are fed and clothed. I want to get to know them, and have them know me. Jonathan, I can't help being myself. I can't merely sit meekly for two months. That is not who I am.”

“No, it's not.” His eyes lit up. “I…I am starting to see that I hadn't known you before.”

“I'm tired of being kept at an arm's length as if I'm hired help. It isn't fair. I came here as a friend.”

Pain entered his eyes, like he'd known he'd been hurting her feelings but hadn't known what else to do. “I realize that.”

“I've been terribly lonely. Won't you consider letting me in your life…if only as much as a little bit?”

Obviously at a loss for words, Jonathan swallowed hard, blushed mightily, then abruptly stood up, turned on his heel and left.

Feeling bemused, Katie watched him leave. Had she made any headway…or merely made things worse?

“Katie?”

Thank the Lord for Hannah!
The little girl was peeking around the corner, her eyes wide and her mouth shaped in a little “o.” “Come in, Hannah,” she said with a smile. “We have much to do.” Pointing to the fabric, she said, “We need to think about what size squares to make for our quilt.”

Thumb hovering near her mouth, the five-year-old tiptoed in. “I havena seen my
daed
talk like that before.”

“I did not mean to upset him.”

Blue eyes blinked. “You just wanted your way?”

In spite of her jangling nerves, Katie laughed. “I suppose so. I guess I'm not quite as easygoing as everyone thought I was,
hmm?
”

Hannah sidled closer, her dark indigo dress brightening
up the vacant room as much as her cheery personality. “You're different than Aunt Winnie.”

“I know. She'll be back soon.”

Hannah nodded, then picked up her favorite piece of fabric. In her arms, the buttery yellow stood in vivid contrast against the dark blue. “Winnie doesn't know how to sew.”

“She can sew well enough, I imagine.”

“No, she can't. She sends out for the sewing. She bought my
daed
a suit from Mrs. Yoder for his birthday.”

Katie struggled to hide her surprise. No Amish woman was expected to be an expert at everything. Sure enough, there were many who bartered or traded goods to get unpleasant projects done. But sewing was as much a part of her family as baking shoofly pie for guests. It was hard to imagine Winnie not sewing at all. In fact, Katie distinctly remembered working on a quilt with Winnie when they were just girls.

But perhaps Winnie had never really enjoyed such activities? “Mrs. Yoder does fine work.”

“Does Mrs. Brenneman do that, too?”

“No. My mother is a very fine seamstress.”

After a moment's reflection, Hannah confided, “Mary said my
mamm
didn't like to sew, neither.”

“I can teach you if you'd like to learn.”

“We'll use this yellow?”

“Definitely. I think we'll make a quilt called Sunshine and Shadow. It's made up of light and dark squares. It's a very lovely pattern.”

“What if you leave before it's done?”

Unexpectedly, the thought of leaving caused Katie's
heart to tighten. Hannah's smiles and sweet nature had claimed her heart. Katie looked forward to more days of holding Hannah's hand when they went to inspect the goat after school. Of baking buttermilk cookies with her, of showing Hannah how to measure ingredients just right. “I'm close by,” she murmured, realizing her voice sounded husky. “Even if I'm living at the inn, we'll still have sewing lessons then.”

Finally satisfied, Hannah crossed the two feet that had separated them and scrambled up on the seat next to Katie. “I'm ready.”

“Then I'm ready, too.”

Together they looked at a pattern book her mother brought, so intent that Katie hardly noticed Jonathan had come back in and was building up a fire.

And she was not aware of the pure relief that crossed his features as he saw how Hannah had taken to her. Katie only concentrated on the girl next to her.

 

As Anna stood next to Henry at the counter of Mr. McClusky's store a week before Thanksgiving, she could hardly believe the differences in her life. Mere months ago, she had accompanied Henry there for the first time. But unlike now, she'd tried to stay in the shadows. Lurking. Afraid of being found. She'd also been fiercely doing her best to deny her feelings for Henry Brenneman.

No, that wasn't quite right, she decided. For the first two weeks or so, there wasn't much to deny. She'd made up her mind to not like him. And the feeling had been mutual.

But now, dressed Plain and very close to taking her vows to the church…and later to Henry, Anna felt at peace. Henry was a good man, good in his heart and strong and stalwart. Sometimes she didn't know what she had done to deserve this new life of hers.

The door opened, bringing in a trio of women, dressed in harvest-colored sweaters and wool slacks. One of the ladies had a turkey pin on her jacket. Another wore a diamond cross around her neck. Each was holding Amish-made crafts and candles.

They were tourists, obviously. And they were staring at Anna and Henry as if they were the major specimens of their science project. Their interest made Anna want to check for crumbs on her cheeks, but Henry merely nodded in their direction.

Mr. McClusky acknowledged the tourists with a gracious smile. “Ladies. Good afternoon.”

“Afternoon,” they chorused, all eyes still pinned on Anna and Henry.

“May I help you with anything?” Mr. McClusky tried to engage the ladies.

The tallest woman, the one with the turkey pin, shook her head. “No, thanks. We're just here to sightsee.” She turned back to stare at Anna like she'd just discovered a great wonder of the world.

Anna felt the blood drain away from her cheeks. “Come,” Henry said in German, pulling her away from the curious stares.

Anna wasn't aware she was holding her breath until they disappeared down the aisle.

Once in relative privacy, he stopped her. “Are you all right?”