A Beau for Katie (15 page)

“Careful,” Katie warned. “You'll burn your—”

“Ouch!” A hiss of steam came from the canner and Freeman jumped back, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together.

“You okay?” Katie asked, suppressing the urge to giggle. It wasn't nice to laugh at his pain, but how could he be so silly as to not know you didn't just remove the weight?

“Fine.” He licked his injured finger.

“You need a cold cloth for that?”

“Nope,” he told her.

“Then wash up and sit down at the table. We've got hot vegetable soup and ham sandwiches for nooning.”

“Sandwiches?” he asked pitifully. “I hope you've made a stack of them. I'm starving.”

“Canning days you're fortunate to get sandwiches,” Ivy said. “When I was growing up, we made do with stewed tomatoes on bread when my mother was doing up vegetables.” She looked around. “Where's Jehu? He's not usually late to table.”

“In the garden,” Freeman said. The tip of his finger was red and he went to the sink and ran cold water on it. “He said he wanted to pick the last ears of corn for you. No more fresh corn until next summer now.”

Katie handed him a towel to dry his hand.

“I don't see salt,” Freeman said, looking at the counter. “You didn't forget to put salt in the jars, did you? My mother always put a half a teaspoon of salt in every jar. To help seal it, I think.”

Katie grimaced. “Salt makes the tomatoes salty, and we don't need to add salt when we don't have to. Especially not for your grandmother or Uncle Jehu. Too much salt can cause high blood pressure. Strokes. We don't need salt to make the jars seal. That's an old wives' tale.”

Freeman looked skeptical. “You always used salt, didn't you, Grossmama? I'm sure you're supposed to.”

“Maybe I did and maybe I didn't,” she said, taking a plate of sandwiches Katie had made earlier from the refrigerator. “But we decided not to do it this year.”

“All the same, what does the canning book say?”

“Freeman, will you let it go?” Katie said. She wanted to swat him with a damp towel. “We know what we're doing. We don't need your advice on canning. This is women's business, not men's.”

“I'm just trying to help,” he protested.

“I know,” she answered, trying not to let her annoyance with him show. “I know you are, but—”

“You have to admit, I've been right in the past. You asked me for advice, and I—”

“Might have needed it before,” she said. “But not now. I've already caught a husband, haven't I? So I must not be doing everything wrong.”

“Whoa. Whoa.” He shook his head. “Sorry. All I wanted to do was make a suggestion, but if you don't want it, that's fine.”

The screen door banged again and Katie heard footsteps on the porch for a second time. “Uncle Jehu?”

“Got some corn,” he replied. “I've husked it outside. Thought it might go good for lunch with the soup and sandwiches.”

“Bring it in,” Ivy ordered. “I'll put a pot of water on.” She looked at Katie. “It won't take long to steam the corn.”

“How long?” Freeman asked.

“Maybe five or ten minutes to heat the water. Another five to steam the corn,” Katie said. “We can sit down and start on the sandwiches. The soup's almost heated.”

“
Ne
, that's fine.” He smiled at her. “I'd like you to see something. It will just take five minutes. If you wouldn't mind coming out to the mill while the corn cooks.”

Katie looked back at Ivy.

“Go on, child. I can manage six ears of corn.”

“We'll be right back,” Freeman assured his grandmother.

Katie removed her soiled apron and hung it over a chair, then followed him out of the house and across to the mill. “What are we going to see?” she asked, tickled to have a few minutes alone with him. She'd been sad when he insisted she couldn't work as his housekeeper anymore; she missed him on the days she didn't get to see him. But when they did see each other, Freeman was good at making sure they were always able to steal a few minutes alone.

“It's a surprise,” he said. He'd left his cane in the kitchen, so he linked his arm through hers. If anyone saw them, she knew he could make the argument she was assisting, but she knew better. He liked this innocent physical contact as much as she did.

“It's for you. For us.” He led her across the yard and into the back section of the mill, an area that she'd never seen before. “I've got a workshop back here,” he explained. “And there's something here for you.” He opened a back door and motioned to her. “See what you think of this.”

She paused, letting her eyes adjust to the dimmer light inside the building. Standing in the center of a large room was a dark oak dresser and a bed with a tall carved headboard and turned foot posts. “Oh,” she breathed as she approached the bed and ran a hand over the nearest post. Carved into the headboard and posts were tulips and a pattern of vines. The craftsmanship was lovely, the tulips stained red and the vines green. “You made this for me?” she asked. Tears clouded her vision. “Freeman... I don't know what to say.” It was so sweet of him. The intricate flower pattern wasn't really her taste, but she would have glued her mouth shut before she would have ever admitted it. If Freeman thought this was beautiful, then she would learn to love it as she loved him.

“
Ne
. I didn't make them.” Freeman shook his head. He walked to the tall dresser and pointed out the same tulip-and-vine pattern on the front of the drawers. “A Mennonite fellow down in Greenwood makes these. I just remembered they were here. Susan and I saw them at the state fair and I had him make them for—”

“You had the set made for Susan?” she interrupted, feeling as if she were the pressure cooker on the stove. She was suddenly so angry that she thought steam might come out of her ears.

Freeman didn't seem to notice. He looked so pleased with himself. “
Ya.
I never gave them to her, of course. It was supposed to be a wedding gift. She saw it and liked it and I ordered it. But by the time the cabinetmaker finished them, Susan and I had already parted ways. It's been sitting here all these years. I pulled the canvas off and polished them up. What do you think?” He leaned against the doorframe. “Pretty, aren't they?”

She turned to him, planting her hands on her hips. She didn't know if she wanted to holler at him or cry. She felt as if suddenly the ground beneath her was shifting. How could she have been so mistaken? How had she not seen this before? “You think I want to sleep in a bed you bought for another woman?” she demanded.

Freeman stared at her in obvious confusion. “Why not? It's brand-new. Nobody ever slept in it. I thought you'd like it.”

“But you bought it for her.” Her voice didn't sound like her own. “For Susan.”

He frowned. “What difference does it make who I bought it for? It's an expensive bedroom set. I thought that you—”

“You thought wrong!”

He drew himself up. “No need to get huffy with me. Most women would—”

“You bought it for Susan,” she interrupted. “I'd sleep on the floor before I'd sleep in her bed. In what she picked out.”

“That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard, Katie.”

Katie backed away. At first she was angry. Now she was hurt. So hurt. She could feel tears burning her eyes. “Am I always to be second place to her, Freeman? To Susan? Is it me you love and want to marry? Or is it still Susan? Are you still in love with her?”

He scowled as if that were the most ridiculous thing a person had ever said to him. “
Ne
! Of course not.”

“But you
wish
I was more like her.” She walked past him, out into the humid day. Away from the pretty bed and dresser that weren't really hers. That would never be hers. “Tell the truth, Freeman. You do wish I was Susan, don't you?”

“Sometimes, maybe I do,” he blurted. “At least she wasn't a shrew. Susan would have had the good manners never to throw a gift back into a man's face.”

“But I'm
not
Susan. I'm going to say what I think. You know that about me. And I'm never going to be the biddable wife you want.”

“You're being hysterical.” He waved his hand. “Blowing this all out of proportion.”

“Am I?” She shook her head. “I don't think so. This just shows how little you know me. How little you understand about who I am.”

“Katie, don't make more of this than it is. If you don't like the bedroom set, fine.” He threw up his hand. “We can sell it.”

“There's no need.” She wanted to turn and walk away. Run. But she held her ground, looking up at him. His face was flushed and she could tell he was angry, too. “Keep it and give it to the next girl you court.”

“Katie. Listen to reason.”

“I am,” she flung, tears running down her face. “And reason tells me that I can't marry you. Find someone else,” she cried. “Someone who will say ‘yes, Freeman, of course Freeman,' like Susan. Because I can't do that. I won't.”

His eyes narrowed. She could see his shoulders tense and feel the anger emanating from him. “If that's the way you feel,” he said, “then so be it. Better to end it now before any more harm is done.”

“You're right,” she answered hotly. “Before anyone's heart is broken.”

Chapter Fourteen

K
atie knocked on the partially open door of Sara's sewing room. She'd been awake most of the night, and had alternated her hours between pacing the floor and praying on her knees. The prayer might have helped; the walking hadn't. And now that she'd come to a decision, she felt that she had to confide in Sara before doing anything else.

“Yes?”

Katie pushed open the door and stood in the doorway.

The dark-eyed matchmaker looked up from the treadle Singer sewing machine and smiled. “I was wondering where you got to this morning.” Sara gathered the olive-green skirt she'd been stitching and held it up. “What do you think of this fabric? I'm making a new dress for one of Wayne Lapp's girls. It's a lovely blend. It should wash well and come off the line without a lot of wrinkles.”

“It's lovely,” Katie said. The Lapps had a houseful of children and a limited income. Sara was a master seamstress, and a new dress would be welcome and could be handed down to smaller sisters when the recipient had outgrown it.

“Well, don't just stand there. Come in.” Sara waved her in.

This was one of Katie's favorite rooms in the house—Sara's sewing room. A battered old pine table held cut and pinned lengths of cloth that, once stitched together, looked like a black Sunday dress for someone. Katie tried to compose herself as she took in the pleasant room. Nearly square, it was painted a restful pale blue with two large windows, a colorful rag rug, and two rocking chairs placed side by side to catch the light. One wall boasted an oversized maple cabinet rescued from a twentieth-century millinery shop and open drawers revealed an assortment of various sizes of thread, needles, scissors and paper patterns. A small walnut table with turned legs stood between the windows and held a cheerful bouquet of yellow zinnias and blue cornflowers. Sara loved fresh flowers and she placed them throughout her home. It was a practice that Katie wanted to emulate when and if she ever had her own house.

Sara studied Katie's face. “Why do I get the idea that something has gone very wrong for you?”

Katie was afraid she was going to burst into tears. She still couldn't believe what had seemed so good between her and Freeman had turned out so badly, so quickly. “I need to talk to you.” She swallowed, trying to regain her composure.

Sara nodded. “Of course. When you didn't take supper with us last night, and then didn't come down to breakfast, I guessed that you were upset.” She rose from her chair at the sewing machine and motioned toward the rockers. “Will you sit?”

Katie rubbed her hands nervously on her apron. “
Ne
. What I have to say won't take long.” She looked at Sara with what she knew were puffy and probably red and swollen eyes. She'd cried last night, but she was done weeping, and she hoped she could carry on without making a fool of herself. “I've broken off my betrothal to Freeman,” she said quietly. “It's over between us.”

“Oh, Katie.” Sara brought fingertips to her lips in a sigh. “Why? Did you argue?”

“We did.”

“That happens with every couple.” Sara looked down and then back up at Katie. “Are you sure this isn't something that can be smoothed over? A lovers' quarrel?”

Katie shook her head. “
Ne
. I wish it was, but this can't be fixed.”

Again, Sara hesitated. “I'm so sorry. I was so sure that the two of you were a solid match.” Her eyes filled with compassion. “I believed that you were right for each other, that you were in love.”

“I was in love with him,” Katie assured her. “Maybe I always will be, but loving someone doesn't mean that you'd be a good wife for him.” She caught the hem of her apron, balling it in her fist. “I can't marry Freeman, because he still cares for the woman that he almost married ten years ago. She's been a shadow between us from the beginning. I should have seen it sooner. And...I can never measure up to her memory. I realized yesterday that I couldn't marry him, knowing he loves her.”

Sara exhaled loudly, sounding impatient now. “You two. You're like a pair of goats knocking heads. I knew you were both strong-willed, but sometimes that works best in a marriage. One balances out the other. You and Freeman are alike in so many ways. Is it possible that you misinterpreted his—”

“
Ne
.” Katie shook her head. “There's no mistake. He brings her up all the time. He compares us. All the time. I can't live that way. Not for the rest of my life.”

They were both quiet for a minute.

“The decision is yours,” Sara said softly. “But I have to advise you not to be hasty.”

“I've made up my mind, Sara. I know I'm doing the right thing.” As she said the words, she felt less sure of them, but she refused to second-guess herself.

“I hope you are.” Sara's eyes crinkled at the corners. “Because Freeman seems such a sensible man. I find it hard to believe he'd still be mooning over a woman after ten years.”

“Well, it's true.” Katie put her hands together and intertwined her fingers. “I can't marry him knowing that he'd rather I was someone else. I won't try to compete with a ghost.”

“A ghost?” Sara lifted a brow questioningly. “Is she dead?”

Katie shook her head. “Not dead. Married with a family of her own. But he remembers her as all the things I'm not.
Sweet Susan.
Meek Susan
. A woman who knew when to give way to a man's will. Biddable, that's what he called her. And that's what I'm not.”

Sara approached and took both of Katie's hands in hers. “Please reconsider. It's easy to make decisions in anger.”

“He took me out to the mill to show me a
surprise
. He's kept the bedroom set he bought for her. He thought it would be our wedding bed. Can you imagine? Susan's bed? I couldn't sleep a night in it.” A tear trickled down Katie's cheek and she dashed it away with the back of her hand. “He doesn't need someone like me, Sara. He needs someone who will say yes to every notion he has. We'd never be happy together.” She sniffed.

Sara plucked a handkerchief from her pocket and handed it to her. “Blow your nose. Dry your eyes. This isn't the first argument that an engaged couple has had. As I said—”

“I value your advice, Sara,” Katie said firmly, “but I can't go through with this knowing what I know. It wouldn't be fair to either of us.”

“I can understand why you're so upset, but you have to remember, men often don't have a clue as to how women think. And if we women are honest about it, we're not always so good about telling our men what's going on in our hearts or our heads.” Sara sighed. “I've been matching couples for a long time, and yours was one I felt certain would be successful.”

“I'm sorry to disappoint you, then.”

“Oh, Katie, you haven't disappointed me.” Eyes misty, Sara held out her arms and hugged Katie tightly when she moved into them. “I know you're hurt,” Sara murmured. “I can see it in your eyes. All I'm saying is that I wish you would give it a few days before making up your mind that you can't find your way past this. Let me talk to him.”

“
Ne
. I've made my mind up.” Katie shook her head emphatically. “I spent the night wrestling with this, and my decision is final. I won't marry Freeman. And I won't sit around moping over it. I want to go to Kentucky to visit Uriah and his family. I think that marrying him would be best.”

Sara frowned. Doubt flickered in her eyes. “Again, I have to counsel you against impulsiveness. If you and Freeman love each other, misunderstandings can be straightened out.”

“Ne.”
Katie shook her head firmly. “I won't change my mind. If you'd been there, Sara, you'd understand.” She folded her arms over her chest. “I think Freeman was relieved. He wouldn't have backed out of our engagement because he's not that kind of man, but I think he realized I was right. We're not suited.” She let her hands fall to her sides. “So if Uriah still wants me, and if he doesn't have two heads or something terrible, then I'll marry him.”

“I can't help thinking that you're making a mistake,” Sara said. “At the least, you should wait a decent time before considering Uriah's offer.”

“Aren't you the one who told me that marriages are made in heaven?” Katie raised her chin stubbornly. She knew Sara was going to try to talk her out of this, but she'd already decided she wouldn't be swayed. “If Uriah and I have respect for each other, if we marry to make a new family, we can learn to love each other. It's better that way. No foolish delusions of love between us, but the opportunity to form a strong union, one where we can raise our children in the faith.”

Sara looked troubled. “As your friend, I recommend you wait a few days, or better still a few weeks. This may look differently in time.”

“If I wait, I'll lose my nerve,” Katie insisted. “I should have accepted Uriah's offer months ago. I'm going to walk over to the chair shop this minute and call Uriah's father's harness shop. His sister has invited me to come and stay with her. And I'm going.”

“Decisions made in haste are often repented in leisure,” Sara told her. “Once Freeman has a chance to think about the mistake he's made, then maybe the two of you can see your way through this.”

“I told you, Sara. I'm through with Freeman.” She walked to the door, eager to be out and on her way. The sooner she made the phone call, the sooner she'd be headed for her new life. “I'm going to Kentucky as quickly as I can make the arrangements. I know what I'm doing, and I know what will make me happy in the long run. Falling in love with Freeman was a mistake. And the best thing I can do is to move on with my life and forget him.”

* * *

Freeman dumped a scoop of horse feed into the donkey's outdoor feed bin in the corral and watched as the aging animal ambled over. Business was slow at the mill this morning, and he could find nothing to occupy his mind. His leg ached. The doctor said that it was healing fast, but that he had to expect a little discomfort in the process. Freeman leaned over the rail and stroked the back of the gray donkey that had a darker gray mark across his shoulders. The animal wiggled his ears and munched at the grain.

“Look at you,” Freeman said. “Not a care in the world.” The donkey just kept eating. The crow Freeman and Katie had rescued hopped across the grass and came to rest a few yards from where Freeman stood. It opened its mouth and let out a raucous caw. Freeman dug in his trouser pocket and found a crumpled biscuit from breakfast. He tossed a piece to the crow and the bird gobbled it and croaked again, wanting more. Freeman threw the rest of the bread, picked up the grain scoop and walked back toward the house, using his cane for support on the uneven ground. He'd put the grain scoop away on his next trip to the barn.

It was a fair day, not too hot, and slightly overcast, with a light breeze. Autumn was coming, his favorite time of year. Ordinarily, Freeman would have rejoiced in the break from the late summer heat, but today nothing pleased him. The crow made a few hops as if to follow him and then flew up to the top of a fence post and perched there, beady black eyes staring at him.

“That's it,” Freeman said. “Nothing more. You'll be so fat you won't be able to fly.” The bird had made an amazing recovery once the broken leg was splinted.

“Stray animals, it's all I'll have,” Freeman muttered under his breath. “Cats, crows and useless donkeys.” It was probably for the best that he and Katie had parted ways when they had. He wasn't cut out for marriage. He was meant for the bachelor life. No matter how hard he tried to make it work with a woman, it ended badly. Shouldn't a man know when it was time to give up on a bad idea?

Over the last twenty-four hours Freeman had gone over and over his and Katie's parting argument, and he couldn't see where he'd put a foot wrong. He'd honestly expected her to be pleased with the bedroom suite. It was brand-new and it wasn't as if Susan had ever slept in the bed. It made no sense. What kind of man did she think he was? If he still had feelings for Susan, he certainly wouldn't have entered into a courtship with Katie. It hurt him that she thought he was that man. And the fact that she didn't know him better than that made him wonder if he really knew her. He exhaled, too worn-out to keep going over it all in his head. Maybe this was all for the best. Maybe it was good to learn her character now rather than later when it was too late to back out of a bad marriage.

“Freeman!”

His grandmother and Uncle Jehu were just coming out of the garden, each carrying a bushel basket of lima beans. Freeman crossed the distance to where they stood near the gate, passed her the metal scoop, and took the heavy basket. Even though he was still using the cane to walk, he was finding he could carry quite a bit of weight. “I'll carry these back to the house for you,” he offered.

“You can help us shell them, too,” his uncle said. “No sense wasting your day lazing around feeling sorry for yourself.”

“That what you think I'm doing?” Freeman asked. It was a barb that hit too close to home. He couldn't stop thinking about Katie and wondering how their happiness could have ended so quickly. She'd been wrong to take offense about the bedroom suite, and she'd been mistaken when she accused him of still being in love with Susan. How did things get so confused between them? His worries about Katie had never been that he wanted her to be someone else. Rather, he'd been afraid that he wasn't strong enough for such a woman. A man should be the head of his house. He didn't want to end up like his parents, with the wife's word being what counted. After knowing Katie, he could see that someone like Susan would have been all wrong for him. Susan was too meek, too unwilling to give an opinion or an idea.