A Beau for Katie (3 page)

“Wonderful,” Freeman said dryly. “I can't wait.”

Katie swallowed the mirth that rose in her throat. Her employer's nephew might not be the cheeriest companion but at least she wouldn't be bored. Sara had warned her that working in Freeman's house would be a challenge. And there was nothing she liked better.

Chapter Two

F
reeman watched Jehu reach for another biscuit. It was evening and the air was noticeably cooler in the house than it had been in the heat of the afternoon. Being cooped up in the house was making Freeman stir-crazy as it was; the heat seemed to add to his irritability. Thinking back on the day, he hoped he hadn't been too ill-tempered with Katie. He didn't mean to be short with people; it was just his situation that made him crabby. That and the radiating pain in his leg.

Jehu and Ivy were seated at the kitchen table eating leftovers from the midday meal that Katie had cooked. He was lying in his bed, but Katie and Jehu had moved it closer to the table for the noon meal so that he could more easily be included in the conversations, and no one had bothered to push the bed back against the wall. Katie hadn't stayed to have supper with them, though he'd almost hoped she would. It was nice to have someone else to talk to besides his uncle and grandmother. Before Katie left to return to Sara Yoder's, where she was staying, she'd heated up the leftovers, carried them to the table and made him a tray.

“Good biscuits.” Jehu felt around for the pint jar of strawberry jam Katie had brought them from her own pantry.

“I thought you must think they were,” Ivy remarked. “Since that's your third.”

Jehu smiled and nodded. “They are. Aren't they, Freeman?”

“Mmm,” Freeman agreed. It was hard to talk with his mouth full. Nodding, he used the rest of his biscuit to sop up the chicken gravy remaining on his plate. He couldn't remember when anything had tasted so good as the meal Katie had served them this afternoon and he was now enjoying it all over again. The green beans were crisp and fresh, and the chicken and dumplings were exactly like those he remembered his mother making. His
grossmama
Ivy had always been dear to him, but no one had ever called her a great cook.

“She's done a marvel on this kitchen,” his grandmother pronounced. “She's managed to find the kitchen table under the crumbs and I can walk on this floor without hearing the sand grit under my feet.” She looked at Freeman. “We should have got her in here the week you got crushed by that cow.”

“It was a bull,” Freeman reminded her.

She lifted one shoulder in a
not convinced
gesture. “Not a full grown one.”

“Nine hundred pounds, at least.” Freeman reached for his coffee. It tasted better than what he usually made. Katie's work, again.

“Pleasant girl, don't you think?” his uncle remarked. For a man who couldn't see, Uncle Jehu had no trouble feeding himself. Somehow, he could eat and drink without getting crumbs in his beard or spots on his clothing. He'd always been a tidy person, almost dapper, if a Plain man could be called dapper. He liked his shirts clean and he wouldn't wear his socks more than once without them being washed. “That Katie Byler.”

“Ya,”
Freeman agreed. The food was certainly a welcome relief from his grandmother's chicken soup, and the kitchen did look better clean, but there was such a thing as overdoing the praise. He wiggled, trying to get in a more comfortable position. He'd had an itch somewhere near the top of his knee, but it was under the heavy cast and he couldn't scratch it. Even when he wasn't in pain there was a dull ache, but he'd just about gotten used to that. It was the itch that was driving him crazy.

“A hard-working girl who can cook like that will make someone a fine wife,” Jehu remarked.

“I was thinking the same thing.” Ivy wiped her mouth with a cloth napkin; Katie had found a whole pile of them in one of the cupboards. “Girls like that get snapped up fast. And she's pleasant-looking. Don't you think so, Freeman?”

“What was that?” He'd heard what she said, but didn't really feel comfortable commenting on a woman's looks. Besides, he had a pretty good idea where this conversation was going. They had it all the time, and no matter how often he told Jehu and Ivy he wasn't looking for a wife, they continued looking for him.

“
Pretty
. I said Katie was pretty. Or hadn't you noticed?” She glanced at Uncle Jehu and chuckled. He gave a small sound of amusement as he spooned out the last of the dumplings from the bowl on the table onto his plate, without spilling a drop.

“I thought she might be, just by the sound of her voice,” Uncle Jehu said. “You can tell a lot about a person from their voice. Wonder if she's walking out with anybody?”

“Sara says not.” His grandmother eyed the blackberry cobbler on the table. There was nearly half of the baking dish left, plenty for the three of them to enjoy.

Freeman's mouth watered thinking about it. Katie had made it with cinnamon and nutmeg and just the right amount of sugar. Too many women used more sugar than was needed in desserts and hid the taste of the fruit with sweetness.

“This coffee could use a little warming up.” Freeman lifted his mug. “I don't want to put anyone to any trouble, but...”

“It won't kill you to drink it like it is,” his
grossmama
told him. “Too much hot coffee's not good for broken bones. Raises the heat in the body. Cool's best. Keeps your temperature steady.”

Freeman swallowed the rest of his coffee. There was no use in asking Uncle Jehu to warm up his coffee. He'd just side with Ivy. He usually did, Freeman thought, feeling his grumpiness coming on again. The itch on his leg remained persistent, and he wondered if he could run something down inside the cast to scratch it without causing any harm.

“Freeman could do a lot worse,” Uncle Jehu went on. “He's not getting any younger.”

“Than Katie?” Ivy pursed her mouth. “You're right, Jehu. I don't know why I didn't think of that myself. She'd fit in well here. And it's long past time—”

“Don't talk about me as though I'm not here,” Freeman interrupted. “And I'm not courting Katie Byler.”

“And what's wrong with her?” Grossmama demanded, turning to him. “She seems a fine possibility to me.”

“Absolutely not,” Freeman protested, pushing his tray away. “And if this is something you've schemed up with Sara Yoder, you can forget it. Katie may make a great wife for someone else, but not for me.”

* * *

Katie tossed a handful of weeds into a bucket. “Freeman wasn't as bad as I expected,” she answered when Sara asked her how her day had gone. She, Sara and two of the young women who lived at Sara's had come into the vegetable garden after supper to catch up on the weeding. Ellie and Mari had started at the opposite end of the long rows of lima beans, while she and Sara had taken this end, giving the two of them an opportunity to talk privately.

Sara grinned. “I knew you could handle him.”

Both she and Sara were barefooted and wearing a headscarf and their oldest dress. The warm soil felt good under Katie's feet. She loved the scents of rich earth and the cheery chorus of birdsong that seemed present in any well-tended garden.

“I think he'd be a good match for someone.” Sara used her trowel to chop the sprigs of grass and work up the soil around the base of the lima bean plants. “What with the mill and the farm, he's well set up to provide for a family.”

Katie rolled her eyes. “I don't know about that. Any woman who takes Freeman Kemp for a husband is asking for trouble. The man thinks he knows everything. Even when he doesn't. He tried to tell me how to scrub the floor. Can you imagine? And the man doesn't know where butter goes in the refrigerator. And when I tell him the truth of the matter, he gets all cross.”

Sara added another handful of weeds to the bucket. They would go into the chicken yard and the scavenging hens would make quick work of them. Nothing ever went to waste on an Amish farm. “Men naturally think they know the best way to do things,” she said. “But the wisest of them learn to think before they speak when it comes to women's chores.”

“I guess no one ever told Freeman that.” Katie tugged at a particularly stubborn pigweed. It came away with a spray of dirt, and she shook it off and added it to the pile. Sara's garden was as tidy as her house, row after row of green peppers, sweet corn, beets, squash and onions. Heavy posts set into the ground made a sturdy support for the wires that supported lima bean vines. Lima beans were one of Katie's favorite vegetables and they were the concern this evening. A summer garden that wasn't worked regularly soon became a tangle of weeds and a haven for bothersome insects.

“Does Freeman seem to be in a lot of pain? Ivy told me the break was a bad one. If he's irritable, that could be the reason,” Sara suggested.

“Hard to judge how much pain a person is in.” Katie pulled the weed bucket closer to them as they moved down the row. “I think he's more bored from having to stay in bed than anything else. I know it would drive me to distraction if I couldn't be up doing.”

“Jehu is nice, though, isn't he?”

“He is. He was very welcoming. He told me not to pay any mind to Freeman's grumpiness. He's an amazing man, really. He knows his way all over that farm, doesn't need a bit of help. I think Freeman said he can see shadows. But you'd never know Jehu was blind the way he moves.”

Sara tossed a weed in the bucket. “My cousin Hannah told me that he was a skilled leather worker for years. He still works for the harness shop down his way. Pieces he can stitch from memory.”

“It's such a shame that he lost his sight,” Katie said.

Sara paused in her weeding and gave Katie a thoughtful look. “It is, but God's will is not always for us to understand. All we can do is accept it and try to make the best of the blessings we have.”

From the far end of the rows, Mari and Ellie began to sing “Amazing Grace.” Ellie, a little person not more than four feet tall, had a sweet, clear soprano voice, while Mari's rich and powerful alto blended perfectly. Katie smiled, enjoying the sound of their voices in the fading light of the warm evening.

“I had a letter today from Uriah Lambright's aunt.” Sara straightened up and rubbed the small of her back. “She says that the family is eager for you to come and visit. Have you given any more thought to considering him?”

“Evening,” came a deep male voice.

The four women looked in the direction of the garden gate.

“Ah, James.” Sara smiled at the Amish man in his midthirties who had just walked into the garden.

“Katie, do you know James?” Sara asked.

“We've met.” She nodded to him. “Evening to you too, James.”

James smiled at her and then turned his attention back to Sara. “Can I steal away some of your help?” he asked. “It's such a nice evening, I thought maybe Mari would like to take a ride with me.”

Mari came toward them, blushing and brushing dirt from her skirt. Like Katie, Mari was barefoot with only a scarf for a head covering. “I wish you'd given me fair warning,” she said, smiling up at James. “I'm not fit to be seen. Can you wait long enough for me to make myself decent and see where Zachary is?”

Zachary was Mari's son, a boy about nine years old. Mari and Zachary were staying with Sara while they made the transition from being English to becoming Amish again. Mari had been raised Amish, but had left the church as a teen and was now returning to the church.

James laughed and used two fingers to push his straw hat higher on his forehead. He was a tall, pleasant-looking man with a quick smile. “I'll wait, but you look fine to me. If you're going to change your clothes, you'd best be quick. Zachary's already in the buggy, and he's trying to convince me that we should go for ice cream.”

Mari glanced at Sara who made shooing motions. “Go on, go on,” Sara urged. “We can finish up here.”

“You're sure?”

“Off with you before I change my mind and put James to work, too,” Sara teased.

James swung the gate wide open and Mari hurried to join him. The two walked off, already deep in conversation.

Katie watched them for a minute. She wasn't jealous of Mari's happiness, but she
was
wistful. Katie wanted to marry and have children, but she was beginning to fear it would never happen. She had always assumed God intended her for marriage and a family; it was what an Amish woman was born to. But what if He didn't wish for her to marry?

With a sigh, Katie returned to her work and she and Sara continued weeding until they met Ellie halfway down the row. “You're a fast worker,” she told Ellie, observing her work. The soil behind Ellie was as neat and clean as a picture in a garden magazine.

“
Danke
. I try.” Ellie's face creased in a genuine smile. “I think the beans at the far end will be ready for picking by tomorrow afternoon.”

“If you can wait until after supper, I'd be glad to help you,” Katie offered. She liked picking limas, and gardening with other women was always easier than doing it alone. “Willing hands make the work go faster,” her mother always said.

“Great,” Ellie replied. “It won't take long if we pick them together.”

Ellie was the first little person that Katie had ever known, but someone who obviously didn't let her lack of height hinder her. Sara had explained privately that although Ellie had come to Seven Poplars to teach school, Sara had every hope of making a good marriage for her. Ellie was certainly pretty enough to have her choice of men to walk out with, with her blond hair, rosy cheeks, and sparkling blue eyes. Katie had liked her from the first, and she hoped that they might become good friends.

“All right,” Sara said, looking across the garden. “I think we've got time to do another row. But there are a lot of full pods on this row. I think we better get to them. Who wants to pick while the other two keep weeding?”

“You pick,” Katie told Sara. “I don't mind weeding. It's satisfying to see the results when I'm finished.”