A Beau for Katie (5 page)

“Do you fish?” he asked.

“What?” She'd been thinking about what he'd said about his parents and hadn't been giving him her full attention. “Do I like fish? To eat?”

“
Ya
, to eat. But I meant to catch. I like fishing. It's what I usually do on summer evenings. We have big bass in the millpond, catfish, perch, as well as sunnies.”

“I do like fishing,” she said. “And crabbing. My
dat
used to take us to Leipsic. We'd crab off the bridge there. And fish, too, but we never caught many.”

“It takes patience and know-how. Bass, especially, are clever. But very tasty. I use artificial lures for them.”

Jehu strolled in, sniffing the air. “Making corn fritters?”

“Cornbread,” Katie said.

“I love cornbread.” He went to the table and sat down near Freeman. “Laundry going, I hear. You've been busy, Katie.” He pulled his cat's cradle string out of his pocket. “Learned a new one this morning. From Shad, of all people. Shad is Freeman's apprentice. Good boy, hard worker.”

“I wouldn't say apprentice,” Freeman corrected. “Shad's got a long way to go before he can call himself a miller. Thinks too much of himself, that boy. Headstrong.”

“Sounds likes somebody else I know,” Jehu said. He turned his head in Freeman's direction. “Sounds like you got him up and out of that bed. And shaved, too, if I'm not mistaken. I smell your shaving cream.” He turned toward the sink where Katie was grating a cabbage she'd brought from Sara's garden. “You're a good influence on him, Katie. Best thing in the world for him. Get out of bed, cleaned up, and stop feeling sorry for himself.”

The screen door squeaked and Ivy joined them. The terrier ran across the kitchen and leaped up on the newly-made bed. “What are you up to, Katie? Don't tell me you're already starting dinner?” She smiled warmly. “Freeman, look at you. Up and shaved. I think I know who to give credit to for this.”

Freeman grimaced, picking up another potato to peel. “Morning, Grossmama. I'm feeling better, thank you.”

“I can see that for myself,” she answered crisply. “And she's put you to work.”

“I couldn't find a vegetable peeler,” Katie said. “Just a paring knife.”

“You won't, not in this house. I've got one if you need to borrow it. Help yourself.” She picked up one of the potatoes Freeman had peeled. “Not bad,” she said, “not good, but not bad. Be more careful. Waste not.” She turned back to Katie. “I just made a fresh pot of tea, and I was hoping that you'd come to my house and have some with me.”

“I don't know,” Katie hemmed. “I've got a lot to do.”

“It'll wait,” Ivy told her, giving a wave. “Come on. We can get to know each other.” She looked up at Katie. “You know you want to.”

“You should go, Katie,” Jehu encouraged. “I'll keep an eye on Trouble, here.” He tipped his head in Freeman's direction.

Katie was torn. She
did
have a lot to do, but it seemed important to Ivy that they share a pot of tea. And God didn't put them on the earth just to sweep and wash, did He? In the end, people mattered more than chores. It was something her mother, though a hard worker, had instilled in her young. “Oh...why not?” she conceded.

“I'd like some tea,” Freeman said. “But I like mine cold. The doctor said I should drink lots of fluids.” He frowned. “Katie's busy. We didn't hire her to sit and drink tea. She has chores to do, and we were having a serious conversation about—”

“Fishing,” his uncle supplied with a grin. “Which means that she's certainly earned a break. Go along with Ivy, Katie. Enjoy your tea. I'll make Grumpy his iced tea. Just as soon as he finishes peeling the potatoes.”

Chapter Four

“C
ome along, dear. We'll have a cup of tea and get to know each other better.” Ivy's invitation was as warm and welcoming as her smile as she led Katie down the walkway between the two houses.

The
grossmama haus
stood under the trees on the far side of the farmhouse where Freeman and Jehu lived. To reach Ivy's place, she and Katie had only to follow the brick path from Freeman's porch to a white picket fence. There, a blue gate opened to a small yard filled with a riot of blooming flowers and decorative shrubs. Katie counted at least a dozen different blooming perennials she could put names to and several she couldn't. There were climbing roses, hydrangea, hollyhocks and lilies, so many flowers that barely a patch of green lawn was visible.

Hummingbird feeders hung on either side of the front door, and the air was filled with the exciting sounds of the tiny, iridescent-feathered creatures, as well as the buzz of honeybees and the chattering voice of a wren. “How beautiful,” Katie said. “Your flowers.”

“They're God's gift to us and a constant joy to me,” Ivy said. “They ask only for sunshine and rain and a little care against the weeds and they bloom their hearts out for us. I'm so pleased that you like my garden. Are you interested in flowers?” She pushed open the front door, ushering Katie into a combined kitchen and sitting room.

Everything inside was neat and orderly. The furnishings were simple: a sofa, an easy chair, a rocker and a round oak table and matching chairs. The appliances were small but new, and they fit perfectly into the small, cheerful cottage with its large windows and hardwood flooring. Colorful family trees, cross-stitch Bible verses and a calendar hung on the walls. A sewing basket sat by the rocker, and a copy of the Amish newspaper,
The Budget
, lay open on the sofa. In the center of the table rested a blue pottery teapot, a sugar bowl and pitcher, with two cups and saucers.

“I do love my tea, even on a warm day,” Ivy said. “I hope you do, too. Coffee is invigorating, but tea calms the mind and spirit.” She waved toward the table. “Please, sit down.”

Katie took a seat at the table. “Your house is lovely.”

“It's wonderful, isn't it? Freeman had it built for me just last year. It's the first new home I've ever lived in. I grew up in an old farmhouse near Lancaster, and then when I married Freeman's grandfather, I came here to the millhouse as a bride. I never had cause to complain, but I do love my
grossmama haus
. It's warm in winter, my stove doesn't smoke and the floors don't creak.”

Ivy poured tea into one of the cups and handed it to her. Even Ivy's dishes showed her love of flowers. The cup and saucer were bright with green leaves and purple violets. “But I'm running on. It comes of living alone, I think. It's not easy, you know. I fear that when I do have company I never give them a chance to get a word in.” Her speech was grandmotherly, but her eyes, alert and missing nothing, gave evidence of an intelligent and still vibrant woman. She smiled again, disarmingly. “So, tell me about your family, Katie. Do you have brothers and sisters?”

“Two brothers,” she answered. “I'm the youngest. There's Isaac. He's the oldest and was named after my father. Isaac has the family farm, and then there's Robert, who lives across the road from us. Our family is small, but close. Isaac and Robert were always inseparable.”

“Two brothers,” Ivy echoed. “I always wanted brothers. I come from a small family myself. My mother had only two of us that lived past babyhood, my sister and me. My father longed so for sons, but it wasn't to be.”

Katie stirred milk into her tea. “My father and mother were hoping for a girl. There hadn't been any girls born in my father's family for two generations.”

“Funny isn't it, how patterns repeat in families? My husband was an only child and while we hoped for a large family, we were blessed with only the one child as well.” She looked at the window and sighed. “I always imagined having a wealth of grandbabies to hug and fuss over, but there was only Freeman. With two sons married, I suppose your fortunate mother has grandchildren.”

“Two so far, Robert's. Isaac just married. It's partially why I took this job. I really like Patsy, and I thought she should have time to settle into her home without a third woman in the house. Mother lives with us, as well. We lost my father a few years back.”

“I heard about that, and I'm so sorry. Your brother Robert has children?”

“Twins. Boys. Just learning to walk. I adore them.”

“So you're fond of children?”

“I am.”

“I hope when you marry that you are blessed with more than a single child. It's hard not to indulge them. But Freeman's father was a precious child and a good man. He never gave us a night's worry. I know he's safe with the Lord, but losing him and Freeman's mother in that accident was a terrible loss. She was like a daughter to me.”

“Freeman mentioned that they had died.”

“A boating accident. They were fishing on the Susquehanna. She was from Lancaster County, and her uncle took them out. We don't know what happened. They may have struck a rock. They say the currents are dangerous. I was so distraught that the weight of it fell on Freeman's shoulders.”

“I'm so sorry.”

Ivy sighed. “Death is part of life. But a mother should never have to bury her child. I don't care what the bishop says. It goes against everything that is right and natural.” She ran her fingertips absently along the edge of her saucer. “You must think my faith is weak, to talk so.”

“Ne,”
Katie assured her. “I can't imagine how difficult it would be to lose both a husband and your only child.”

Ivy swallowed, her eyes, so much like Freeman's, sparkled with tears unshed. “It was...very hard. They say it gets easier with time and prayer, but some days...” She broke off and looked out the window. A silence stretched between them, but it was one of shared loss rather than awkwardness. After a moment or two, she glanced at Katie and brightened. “How old are you?”

Katie thought it was an odd question. Why did Ivy care how old the housekeeper was? But she wasn't offended in any way. “Twenty-three,” she answered. “Twenty-four soon.”

“And have you been baptized into the church?”

“I have. Last summer.”

“Good.” Ivy nodded her approval. “I cannot imagine living through such loss without the knowledge that those I love are forever beyond pain and sickness and that I will someday see them again.”

“That's true,” Katie said. “I feel the same way about my father. I miss him terribly, but he suffered from his condition, and now he is at peace.”

“
Ya.
I do believe that.”

“And you aren't alone,” Katie said. “You still have Freeman,” she said. “And, as you say, he's a good man. He must be a great comfort to you.”

“He is.” Ivy sighed. “He always has been. Do you see what expense he went to building this house for me? I didn't need anything so fancy, but I love it. And I have two bedrooms, when one should have been plenty, so if you ever want to stay over, you're welcome to stay here with me.”

“That's very kind of you,” Katie said.

“I'm not saying that my Freeman is without his faults. I wouldn't want you to think that I'm as blind as Jehu. I'm afraid we did spoil him as a child. He's a good boy, and I love him dearly, but he
is
fond of having his own way. Like his father and grandfather before him, there's only one way to do something, and that's the Kemp way.”

Katie smiled. “My brothers have accused me of always wanting things done the
Katie
way. They say I'm stubborn, but if my way is the best way, why should I change to please someone else? So long as the job gets done right and as quickly as needed?”

“Men do hate having women show them how to do something easier,” Ivy said. “I'm afraid it's born in them. In some ways, I don't believe any of them ever grow up. They're like little boys in grownup clothing.” She chuckled. “They never get past the age of wanting a woman to take care of them and clean up after them.”

“Speaking of which, I'd best get back to my chores.” Katie started to rise. “The tea was delicious, but if we're to have our midday meal on time, I should go.”

“Please, don't go yet,” Ivy said. “I promise, no more sad talk. I'm ashamed of myself that I invited you to come and chat and then went on about my losses. I'm a poor hostess.”

“Ne,”
Katie insisted. “I don't mind. I'm glad that you felt you could share your heartache with me. My mother is a good person, and we're very close. I couldn't ask for a better parent, but she doesn't talk about such things...about missing my father. She was never one to talk about her feelings. She says that we should keep such thoughts private. What you said about it being hard to accept... I feel the same way.” She reached out and squeezed Ivy's hand. “It eases my heart to know that I'm not the only one who wants to put her sorrows into words. But I better go.” She gave a small sound of amusement as she stood. “As Freeman said, I'm not being paid to sit and drink tea. I came to his house to work, and if his meal is late, you know he'll fuss.”

“Let him fuss,” Ivy insisted. “Sit down and have another cup of tea and tell me all about this offer of marriage you have from Kentucky that Sara was telling me about. If my grandson has something to say about what time his dinner goes on the table, he can say it to me because I'm keeping you here for my own pleasure. Besides...” She shrugged and mischief lit her eyes. “Sometimes, it's good for a man to wait on a woman.”

* * *

“She's late, isn't she?” Freeman asked aloud, directing his question to no one in particular.

He was sure that it had been well before eight when Katie arrived the morning before. He'd slept well the previous night and had awakened at the first rooster crow. He'd gotten himself up and into the wheelchair and washed, shaved and dressed himself so that Katie would have no reason to criticize him. Now he was resting in the bed, waiting for her.

It seemed as if he'd been waiting for her to arrive for hours. He thought maybe they could sit on the porch this morning and shell the lima beans Jehu had brought in from the garden the night before. Freeman was looking forward to getting out of the house, if only just to the porch. He'd have a view of the mill from there and he could see the height of the water in the smaller overflow pond. Anything but staring at this kitchen all day, he thought.

He glanced at the mantel clock again and found only four minutes had passed since he last looked. “She was here earlier yesterday, I'm sure of it.”

“Eight.” Jehu held out a mug of coffee. “No reason to think Katie won't be here on time this morning.” How he managed to pour coffee and carry it across the room without spilling a drop when he was blind as a scarecrow, Freeman couldn't imagine. “Drink this and keep your trousers on. It will hold you until breakfast.”

“If we ever get it,” Freeman grumbled. “
Danke.
I appreciate it.” He took a sip of the coffee. As usual, Jehu had forgotten to add milk, but Freeman wouldn't mention it. He'd drink it black, one more indignity for a man laid low by his own stupidity. All he had had to do was wait until Shad arrived to help him with the bull. But no, he had to do it himself. Couldn't wait. Couldn't ask for help. He'd been so sure that he could manage the half-wild animal, and the bull had made a sideways jump and knocked him against the fence as easily as if he was a ten-year-old child. He couldn't even blame the animal. The beast hadn't intended to hurt him. He was simply reacting out of panic. The other men, when they'd caught up with him, had easily surrounded it and driven it into a neighbor's pasture where they'd been able to get a rope on it.

He couldn't have picked a worse time to get laid up. Shad was just beginning to understand the milling process. He didn't know the first thing about controlling the flow of water out of the millpond, and the financial end of the business was beyond him. Everything was done on the computer: all the billings, delivery schedules, and bookkeeping. And the computer was in the mill office, seventy-five yards away, but it might have been seventy-five miles for all his ability to get there and use it. There was no electricity in the house, no telephone. They were in the office, strictly for business and emergencies, and closely watched by the local deacon, who was suspicious of all such worldly electronics.

His grandmother could operate the old-fashioned, manual cash register. She could sell one-and five-pound sacks of wheat and rye flour to the customers, but she didn't have the faintest idea how to make a spreadsheet or send and receive email and she hadn't had much success motivating Shad to take initiative in the actual milling process.

What was happening to the family business while he was flat on his back weighed heavier on him than the pain of his leg, and Katie Byler disturbed him even further. Although...he had to admit she'd set the kitchen to rights, and he'd slept a lot better on clean sheets. He wasn't a slovenly man, and clean clothes and a shave made him feel more like himself. But he liked things done a certain way, and she didn't seem to understand that although he was temporarily incapacitated, he was still master of this house.

Not that he was an unreasonable man. He could see now that, considering the circumstances, having Katie come was a good idea. He'd set his mind to being more open to having this stranger in his house for a few days. There was no doubt that she had shaken his self-absorption and given him something to think about other than his own problems. She was an excellent cook, and she wasn't exactly hard to look at. To be truthful, Katie was more than average in appearance. The golden-blond locks that curled around an oval face, even features, and wide, thick-lashed blue eyes were enough to make any man look at her twice. A few golden freckles dusted her nose and cheekbones, but they didn't mar her fair German complexion; they only added to her beauty.