Amish Country Box Set: Restless Hearts\The Doctor's Blessing\Courting Ruth (8 page)

“I guess you’ll have to eat it, Mary Kate.” Fiona could only be glad that Mary Kate’s child’s indiscretion took the conversation away from the subject of Ted.

The others began teasing Mary Kate about her having to eat any cakes with fingerprints, and Fiona escaped with a tray into what she’d begun calling the “group room,” where she hoped she might eventually hold birthing classes. At the moment, it had two long, covered tables—one for food, the other divided between a coffee and tea station and rows of booklets and materials about midwifery to give out to anyone who was interested.

The questions about Ted had unsettled her, and she tried to push them away. Ted’s social life was no concern of hers. She had no idea what he did during his free hours. He might be going out on dates every night of the week, for all she knew.

Not with her. After that revelation about the end of his relationship with Emma, she understood his attitude toward her a lot better. But the attraction was there—they both recognized that, even if they had no intention of admitting it.

Her mother’s actions had, however inadvertently, ruined his love for Emma. Maybe it was just as well, maybe they’d been too young, maybe it would have ended as unhappily as her parents’ marriage had. Still, he had to find her a reminder.

She’d known he found her presence painful for his friends. Now she realized that it might be painful personally, as well. No one could blame him for steering clear of her. No one.

“Your first visitors are gathering on the porch.” Aunt Siobhan hurried in, followed by the others, bearing more trays of food. “Go on, dear, and welcome them. We’ll see that everything is set up properly here.”

Fiona nodded. She should thank them again, but a flock of butterflies seemed to be fluttering around her stomach, and her throat had closed. Pinning a smile to her face, she hurried to the door to open it officially for the first time.

* * *

An hour later she was taking a breather after having given her hundredth introductory spiel when Nolie shoved an oatmeal cookie into her hand.

“Relax and eat something. Enjoy.” She grinned. “You’re a success.”

“I guess so.” She looked around at the rooms, still crowded with people. “Are you sure they’re not just here for the free refreshments?”

“Look at them. Every person is holding some of your brochures. If they’re not going to be clients themselves, they’ll tell someone else. It may take time and patience, but this is going to work.”

“Patience is a given in the midwifery field. Babies seldom arrive when expected.” She glanced around again. There were several young women who might be in need of her services, but none in Amish garb. “I’d hoped for some sign of acceptance from the Amish today.”

Nolie poked her. “Well, then, you have it. Look who’s coming in.”

Pleasure flooded Fiona, and she hurried toward the three women in the doorway—Susie, Aaron’s wife, obviously blooming with pregnancy, along with two other young Amish women. Ridiculous, to be so elated at the sight of them.

“Susie, I’m so happy you’re here.”

“I wanted to see your office, even though my baby will be born at home.” Susie patted her rounded belly, and then she nodded to the young woman on her left. “This is my friend, Miriam Hostetler. She wants you to deliver her baby. And her sister, Elizabeth. Elizabeth’s father planted a whole row of celery in the garden this year, so we think a wedding will be announced soon.” Fiona looked at her, puzzled. Celery?

The younger woman blushed, nodding. Miriam said
something to her and then smiled at Fiona. “Celery is an important part of the wedding feast. We say you can tell when a daughter will be married by the amount of celery in the garden.”

“Well, I’m happy to meet both of you. Miriam, if you’d like to make an appointment, I can come to your home, or you can meet me here.” She gestured toward the door to the meeting room. “Why don’t you go in and have some refreshments now, and we’ll talk later.”

They nodded, moving off in a group. She couldn’t control the elation that bubbled through her. This day was a success, wasn’t it?

She glanced toward the door, saw who stood there, and swallowed hard. She really shouldn’t feel that rush of pleasure at the sight of Ted’s tall figure. He hovered awkwardly on the doorstep, as if unsure of his welcome.

She smiled at him. “Please, come in. The open house is for everyone, not just expectant mothers.”

He stepped inside, holding out something in a soft cloth. “I brought you a little housewarming gift. Sorry it’s not wrapped fancy, like some of those.”

He glanced at the hall table that overflowed with everything from homemade jelly to houseplants.

“You didn’t need to bring anything.” She took the bundle, her fingers brushing his as she did. “I didn’t expect gifts from anyone.”

“Folks around here like to say welcome,” he said. “Open it.”

She opened the cloth, exposing what it hid. The plaque was of wood, not brass, but otherwise it was exactly as she’d envisioned it that first night when she’d looked at the house: Fiona Flanagan, Nurse-Midwife.

Her throat choked. “Thank you.” She managed to stammer the words. “And thank Jacob.” For surely this delicate carving must have come from him.

“Jacob just supervised,” he said. “In spite of what my brother might say, I did the work.” His fingers brushed hers again. “Welcome to Crossroads, Fiona.”

“Thank you.” She didn’t dare look up at him, because she didn’t want him to see the silly tears in her eyes.

He glanced over her shoulder, as if sensing her feelings and trying to spare her embarrassment. “I see Susie brought you some prospective clients.”

She nodded, clearing her throat so that she could speak normally. “Only three Amish turned up, but plenty of other people.”

“Well, it’s a start.” His fingers touched hers again as he took the sign. “Would you like me to go and put this up for you?”

“Yes. Thank you.” As he said, it was a start.

* * *

The auction sign was large, handmade and decorated with a bunch of balloons so that no one could miss the proper turn. Fiona turned her car onto the narrow dirt lane that led between cornfields toward, presumably, the site where she hoped to pick up a few pieces of furniture she needed for the house.

The corn had been left standing in the field. She’d learned enough in her weeks here to know that was unusual. Most of the corn had long since been cut for silage to feed the animals over the winter. Only here did the stalks stand, brown and sere, looking abandoned.

She shook her head. Silly to be thinking such mournful thoughts. Perhaps the farmer and his wife had retired to a well-earned rest in Florida or some other sunbelt state, and the proceeds from the sale of things they’d left behind would pay for new furniture for a bright sunroom or a boat to putter along a warm bay.

She emerged from the cornfields to a busy sight. People thronged over the lawn between house and barn, talking, laughing, acting as if this event was a party. The auctioneer stood beneath a canopy ringed by lawn chairs, already filled. It was probably smart, auction-goers bringing their own chairs with them.

She pulled into a row of cars in a stubbly field and parked, trying to douse a surge of apprehension. She didn’t look like any more of an outsider than the yuppie couple climbing out of their big SUV next to her. And if any of her mother’s family happened to be here—well, she’d cope with that if it happened.

In the week since the open house, things had settled down to what might be her new normal. Several clients had come to engage her services, including Susie’s friend, Miriam Hostetler. Ruth’s quilters were back at work, including Emma, but she’d regretfully put the pieces of her mother’s quilt away again. Somehow she
didn’t have the heart to ask anyone else to finish the quilt after what had happened.

She slid out of the car, grabbed her bag and headed for the center of activity. She could hear the auctioneer’s chant from here, and she pushed her way through the throng. It would be nice to see someone she knew, although the odds of that probably weren’t great. The auction had certainly attracted a mob of people—farmers mixed with smart, young well-dressed couples who’d probably come out from Suffolk for a Saturday of antiquing, together with a scattering of Mennonite and Amish.

Her stomach churned. She looked around, trying to see if any of her mother’s family was there. It had to happen sooner or later.

Not today, Lord. Please. I’m not ready.

How often had she said that? She knew, perfectly well, that she’d spent much of her life withdrawing from the chance of emotional hurt. She even knew why. The problem was finding the courage to change.

I know I said I’d be different when I came here, Father. I’ll try not to be a turtle, hiding in my shell. I will. I just don’t want to face them today.

And what about Ted? Did she want to face him? He’d stopped by the house twice during the week, casually—so casually, in fact, that she couldn’t decide whether the visits were a gesture of friendship or what he saw as his duty, checking up on the new resident.

She’d reached the edge of the crowd around the auctioneer, and she peered past bodies to get a look at what
he was selling. Farm equipment, apparently. Maybe she’d have time to look over the furniture before he got that far.

She glanced across the crowd. The furniture seemed to be set out on the dry grass on the far side. She took a step in that direction and then stopped. That slim figure, surely, was Emma Brandt, bending over to inspect a marble-topped nightstand.

Without even thinking about it, she turned and walked in the opposite direction, ending up on the edge of the crowd. She faced a garden with pumpkins and winter squash that showed orange and green among the vines.

“Looking for a nice pie pumpkin?”

She knew it was Ted without looking. She turned, managing a smile. There was no point in letting him know she was such a coward.

“Miriam Hostetler told me about the celery in Amish gardens. I was just thinking there’s none planted here.”

He smiled, face relaxed. He wasn’t in uniform today, but his broad shoulders filled out the plaid shirt he wore with jeans and a denim jacket. “Old man Henderson wasn’t Amish, and he wasn’t marrying off any daughters this November, that’s for sure.”

“November?”

He nodded. “It’ll soon be here. November is the traditional month for Amish weddings, after the harvest is in and before the snow flies. Maybe Miriam told you that they don’t announce the wedding until a few weeks ahead, but if a man plants a lot of celery, it means he’s thinking of a wedding feast.”

“That’s what Miriam said.”

A silence fell between them, but it seemed a comfortable one. Maybe Ted had gotten past his worries about her presence here. It would be nice to think they could be friends.

Just friends, the cautious side of her added quickly. Just friends.

Suddenly the silence didn’t feel so comfortable. “Are you planning to bid on anything today?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Probably not, but I can never resist the lure of an auction. You never know what treasure you might find. How about you?”

“I thought I might pick up a piece of furniture or two for the house. I can’t bid on anything very big, or I won’t be able to haul it.”

He gave her a quizzical look. “The furniture is over on the other side of the tent.”

“I know. Unfortunately, so is my aunt Emma. Maybe my grandmother.”

She hadn’t been able to identify any of the other black-caped figures from this distance, their bonnets and capes making them as anonymous as she’d thought she’d be in this crowd.

“I see.” He glanced across the crowd, his height letting him see easily over the heads of most people. “It looks like most of the Stolzfus and Brandt families are here today.”

She tried, and failed, to read any emotion in his voice. “Do you think I should leave?”

She could see that he didn’t like being put on the spot with the question. She wasn’t sure how to read him—his expression didn’t change with the question. But she knew. Maybe his square jaw got a little squarer, or maybe she was developing way too much insight where Ted Rittenhouse was concerned.

“No,” he said finally. Reluctantly, she thought. “If you’re going to live here, they’ll have to come to some way of dealing with your presence.”

His concern, as always, was for them, not her, but at least he seemed to recognize that they needed to adjust, too.

“There’s no ‘if’ about it. I’m here to stay.”

He gave a short nod. “There’s your answer, then.”

And you regret it, don’t you? Maybe she’d better get away from him before she said something like that aloud to him, instead of in the privacy of her mind.

She pulled her corduroy jacket a little closer around her. “I’m going to find some hot coffee. Will you excuse me?” She didn’t wait for an answer, but started across the short, crisp grass to the food stand she’d spotted near the barn.

He didn’t follow her. Well, she hadn’t expected him to. He’d made it clear from the beginning whose side he was on in this standoff with her mother’s family. She needn’t imagine he’d change because of some vagrant bits of attraction between them.

By the time she reached the food stand, she’d managed to let go of whatever irritation she felt toward
Ted and refocused her attention on what she hoped to buy today. A nightstand would be nice, and she could fit that in the back of the car. She tried to picture how it would look in her bedroom, next to the new bed.

The steaming hot chocolate smelled even better than coffee, and she took a large cup. One sip sent warmth surging through her, chasing away the late-October chill.

She’d just started back around the barn when she heard the sound of rushing feet behind her. Before she could turn they’d raced past her—three or four teenage boys, brushing so close they jostled the cup, splashing hot chocolate over her hand. Judging by the muffled laughter she heard as they disappeared around the barn, that was what they’d intended.

Annoyed, she fumbled in her bag for a tissue to mop the chocolate from her hand and wrist. A splash had hit the sleeve of her jacket, but it wasn’t bad. The boys had judged it nicely. They’d bumped her just enough to bother her, but not enough that she’d go seek out the law.