Kate's Song (30 page)

Dat tilted his head. “You think one summer with you was plenty for me and Mamma? It would crush your mamma to be without you again.”

Mamma nodded, her eyes brimming with tears.

“You could come visiting. I could come visiting,” Kate said.

“That is not good enough,” Dat said. “You need to be near your family. We can help you heal.”

Kate thought of Ada’s smug expression as she described Sarah’s triumph. “Please do not force me to endure Ada’s gloating and Aaron’s lectures. Let them exult over me from a distance.” She looked at her mother pleadingly. “I cannot endure it, Mamma.”

Dat rubbed the back of his neck in frustration. “Nathaniel is not the only worthy man in the community. In time you will find another.”

“What would you do if, heaven forbid, you lost Mamma?” Kate said.

Dat closed his eyes. “I know what you want me to say. Of course I would…” He sighed in resignation and patted Mamma’s hand. “I would not be able to put two words together to form a sentence. But I would accept God’s will.”

“Can you imagine me being reminded every day that the man I love is lost to me forever?”

“We could ask Ada and Aaron to move to La Crosse,” Dat said.

Both Kate and Dat burst into bitter laughter at the same time. Mamma, who sat between them, didn’t see the humor.

“Do you think they would agree?” Kate said.

Dat stood up and pulled Mamma with him. He held out his hand to Kate and helped her up as well. “You may go for a visit. But when summer comes, I want you coming home for good.”

“But—”

He held up his hand. “None of this talk of staying in Holmes County. We’ve already let an Ohio boy take our Hannah. I won’t lose you too.”

Kate reached into her pocket and fingered the photograph of Maria and Alex before handing it to Dat. “Will you keep this for me? It will help you remember.”

Dat took the picture and fixed his eyes on the small image. “This will not take your place.” He slipped the photo into his wallet. “Just till you return.”

Kate nodded and managed a noncommittal shrug. It would be easy to plant herself in Ohio. Harder for Dat to uproot her.

She breathed in the fresh air of liberation. It was time to go.

With his hands buried in his pockets and his face hidden behind the top flaps of his coat, Nathaniel stomped across the yard to Aaron’s house in the dim light of a cloudy sunset. Ice crystals blanketed every tree, transforming the orchard into lace. Indents made by Aaron’s heavy boots in the mud had frozen over with thin sheets of ice. No snow lay on the ground, but everything from Nathaniel’s breath hanging heavy in the air to the frosted windowpanes on the Weaver home bore witness to the imminent winter.

Nathaniel knocked and heard a scuffle as several of Aaron’s boys fought for the privilege of opening the door.

Even through the wall, Ada’s voice pierced the air. “Giddy, stop bothering your brother. You’ll be the death of me. The death of me yet.”

She gave up screeching when she opened the door and pushed her boys out of the way. Her face lit up. “Nathaniel. Come in. We wasn’t expecting you.”

“I am come to see Aaron. Is he in?”

“Out to the stable tending the horses. I will have Giddy fetch him.”

“Do not trouble yourself,” Nathaniel said. “I will find him.”

“Wait.” Ada bustled to the kitchen and returned with a napkin folded around four cookies. “Take these for the two of you.”

“Denki,” Nathaniel said. “They smell gute.”

“My favorite recipe from Mamm Weaver. She knows a barrelful about cooking, even if none of her daughters got the skill. Mary can’t make a cake to save her life. And Kate never tried hard enough.”

Nathaniel wished that once, just once, the mention of Kate wouldn’t send pain coursing through his veins. He cleared his throat and turned to leave. “Denki for the cookies.”

“I saw her yesterday,” Ada said.

“Who?”

“Kate. She was dressed up all fancy with orange shoes. Can you believe, orange shoes?”

“Is she…is she in Apple Lake?”

“Nae, silly goose. She wouldn’t show her face here. Mamm and Dat Weaver went to Milwaukee to visit her, and I went along. Mamm and Dat saw her opera. Bought a ticket and walked right in like they was Englisch. I warned them not to. My fater will have to be told of their sin.”

“Is she well?”

“Who, Kate?” Ada folded her arms. “You will never guess. She told Dat Weaver that she wants to be baptized in Hannah’s gmay. According to Solomon, she got on the bus this morning for Ohio.”

Nathaniel furrowed his brow.
Baptized? Why would Kate be baptized?
He tried to make sense of that piece of information.

Ada had probably heard wrong.

Unless there was trouble.

Nathaniel almost asked Ada if she had noticed bruises on Kate’s face. Even though Kate had rejected Nathaniel, the thought of that other man hitting Kate made Nathaniel want to put a hole through the wall. Kate had fled her violent boyfriend once. What if she needed another escape and didn’t dare try to pull off the deception again in Apple Lake?

“I told Aaron I do not know why Kate would be baptized. The fancy life suits her well,” Ada said. “The girl cannot even sew a tiny stitch.”

What about her baby? Had the poor child been passed to yet another stranger so Kate could continue her deception? Nathaniel shook his head to clear it. How had he been so blind?

He nodded, took his stack of cookies, and left Ada standing on the porch.

Although small, Aaron’s stable was a fine, sturdy structure. Nathaniel knocked lightly before turning the handle and slipping into the relative warmth inside.

Aaron was brushing one of his chestnut mares before bedding her in the stall. A bright propane lantern hissed by his side as he carefully smoothed the rough hair at the horse’s neck.

“Are we playing Scrabble tonight?” Aaron said, glancing at Nathaniel out of the corner of his eye. “Ada didn’t mention it.”

“Nae,” Nathaniel said. “Sarah is baking pies for the Herschberger wedding tomorrow.”

Aaron led his horse to the stall. Smiling and lifting an eyebrow, he said, “I expected you to be preparing for a wedding for yourself by now. What’s the matter? Can’t convince Sarah to say yes?”

Nathaniel swallowed the lump in his throat and forced a smile. “Mamm would need at least two years’ notice to prepare for my wedding.”

“Let’s hope not. You aren’t getting any younger.” Aaron closed the stall door and slapped Nathaniel on the shoulder. “Come inside where it’s warm. Ada made cookies.”

Nathaniel held out his hand. “She gave me some. Do you think we could stay out here yet? I need to discuss something with you.”

Aaron raised his eyebrows. He studied Nathaniel’s face then retrieved two three-legged stools. “Then sit,” he said, placing the stools next to each other beneath the tall propane lantern.

“I went to Milwaukee to see Kate,” Nathaniel said.

Aaron clenched his fists and the muscles around his jaw tightened. “When?”

“September.”

“That long ago?”

“I had to see for myself,” Nathaniel said.

Aaron knitted his brow together and stared as if he were trying to see the back of Nathaniel’s head from the front. “And you talked to her?”

“I didn’t have to. I saw her across the street with her boyfriend.”

“The one who came to fetch her?”

“Jah, I’m sure of it. And there is something else.” Nathaniel scooted his stool closer to Aaron’s, feeling the need to whisper even in the isolated room. “But I must have your assurance that you will tell no one of this.”

“How can I help?”

Nathaniel took a deep breath, still wondering if it was wise to share such a secret with Aaron. Was Nathaniel any better than the gossips who wagged their tongues and rejoiced over other’s misfortunes?

He didn’t rejoice over this. The knowledge weighed so heavily, he thought it might crush him.

His heart beat angrily. “In the two years she was gone, Kate had a baby.”

Whatever Aaron was expecting, it wasn’t this. His mouth gaped open in shock. “Are you sure?”

Nathaniel nodded. “The girl at the academy told me. Then I saw Kate and her boyfriend with the baby.” Nathaniel’s mouth went dry. He saw it all again in his mind, his reaction as raw and bitter as when it actually happened.

Aaron smiled widely, jumped to his feet, and threw his hands out as if praising God. Not the reaction Nathaniel expected. “I warned everyone,” Aaron said. “Kate brought only wickedness into our home. No one saw her for what she was.”

Nathaniel stared at Aaron.

“Now people will know who was wise and who was deceived,” Aaron said.

“You rejoice over your sister’s downfall?”

Aaron remembered himself before his rejoicings turned rapturous. He confined his hands to his pockets and put on a stern countenance. “Elmer and Mamm and Dat thought I judged too harshly, but now they will see I was justified in my suspicion of her, that I had good reason for my actions.”

Nathaniel reached out a hand and grabbed Aaron’s arm. “Nae, Aaron. No one must know. No one.”

“But why? The community will realize how wise you were for seeing her as she truly was. And they will know that I was right all along.”

“Someday Kate might feel sorry for what she has done. She will need our understanding, not our judgment. People would think badly of her if they knew. I will not allow that. When she is ready, she will come forward with the truth. Until then, I will not shame her.”

“She has shamed herself.”

“I will not compound that shame.”

Aaron whirled around to face him. “Then why tell me?”

“Because I can trust you and because it has been such a heavy burden.” The emotion overcame him like a brutal, invading army. He wrapped his arms tightly around his stomach to keep from shaking.

Aaron moved behind him and rested his hands comfortingly on Nathaniel’s shoulders. “Her memory still has power over you. I am sorry. She was once a gute girl. I understand why you loved her. I am truly very sorry.”

Nathaniel breathed deeply in and out, willing the gaping chasm in his chest to shrink and the violent pounding of his heart to cease. Why did his heart go on beating at all? Now that he had unburdened himself, things would surely get better. Surely Aaron and the rest of his community would help him find the will to go on living.

Time would heal everything.
Must give it some time.

If he waited long enough, time would turn him to dust and the wind would blow him away.

Nathaniel reached over and patted the milky white calf. “She’s a beauty, ain’t not? Gute color and bright eyes. No swelling in the knees.”

“Jah,” Davie Eicher said. “From Dat’s best milker. She’ll fetch a good price. You looking to buy?”

Nathaniel lifted each hoof and examined it. “May so. I ain’t sure yet.”

“I brought seven for auction. Lots to choose from.” Davie pointed down the row of stalls. “Have a look.”

Nathaniel raised his head just as Sarah Schwartz appeared at the pavilion door with her hands on her hips. “Nathaniel King, this habit of wandering away without telling me has got to stop. I spent the better part of twenty minutes searching you out.”

With a look of embarrassment, Davie turned his back and busied himself with a knot in his rope.

Nathaniel stuffed his hands into his coat pockets and looked at the floor so Sarah wouldn’t notice the resentment in his eyes. “I’m looking at buying a milking cow for Mamm.”

“Your mamm has no need for another cow. Your milker still has plenty of good years left in her.”

“This one’s a wonderful-gute—”

“Not another word. I declare, if I weren’t around to keep you in check, you’d be spending every cent of your money on things you don’t need.”

On tiptoe, Sarah ventured a few feet into the livestock pavilion and reached out her hand to Nathaniel. “Cum. Your tables are about to go up for bidding. You want to see how much they bring, don’t you?”

Nathaniel glanced at Davie, who was doing his best to pretend he hadn’t heard the conversation. “I’ll be back,” he said under his breath. Davie gave a barely perceptible nod.

With Sarah in the lead, Nathaniel tromped over to the warm east pavilion, which was outfitted with tables and folding chairs—and where buyers were already bidding on the last of his three walnut tables. Nathaniel and Sarah slipped into the back row.

“I told you, you shouldn’t have disappeared,” Sarah hissed. “You missed it.”

“Not all of it.”

“Most of it.”

Nathaniel had always loved auctions—the excitement of watching the price of his item rise with every bid, the thrill of competition to be the highest bidder. He enjoyed browsing the goods and livestock that Englisch and Amish alike brought to sell.

His favorite memory was the time he’d threatened to buy Kate a quilt she knew he couldn’t afford and watching her eyes grow to saucers as he pushed the bid past six hundred dollars. He knew precisely when to stop so he wouldn’t actually have to buy the quilt, and she had cuffed him several times for putting her through such torment.

The thought sobered him now. How could he take pleasure in the memory of something that wasn’t real?

“Seven hundred and twenty-five dollars!” Sarah clapped her hands. “Did you hear that? People love your furniture, Nathaniel.”

“A gute price.”

“Gute? Excellent, I’d say.”

A beautiful quilt of emeralds and reds came up next. Tiny appliquéd flowers twined around the border, and a bouquet of roses graced the center.

Nathaniel folded his arms across his chest and grinned. “How about I buy that for you, Sarah?”

“You’ll do no such thing. I can make thirty of my own for the price you’d pay for that.”

After two bids were placed, Nathaniel raised his hand. “One hundred.”

Sarah’s horrified expression did not deter him. “Stop this at once,” she scolded.

“Two hundred,” Nathaniel yelled after waiting for a sufficient number of bids.

“Nathaniel, you will quit this foolish game right now, or I will have to remove you from the room.”

“Two-fifty.” Nathaniel looked smugly at Sarah, whose piercing stare could have sliced him in half.