Her Restless Heart (23 page)

Mary Katherine felt a rush of guilt. Oh, she knew her mother loved her, but she'd been so caught up in her own feelings, she hadn't thought how her mother would feel if she left. She realized she'd thought of her mother as . . . her mother, not a person with her own fears and insecurities and wishes.

The front door opened. "Miriam, supper's ready—" He stopped when she turned and he saw her tears. "What's wrong?" He looked at Mary Katherine. "Have you upset your
mamm?"
he thundered.

Miriam jumped to her feet, and it must have been a case of too much, too soon, for she swayed on her feet. Isaac rushed down the steps and clasped her around the waist.

"No, no, I'm fine," she insisted.

After a long moment, he released her, but she stayed in the circle of his arms. "Our daughter here just told me she's joining the church. She's joining the church, Isaac!"

Their eyes met, father and daughter, and the glare faded from his. "Really?"

"Really," she said, nodding. She frowned when she remembered what the bishop had said about her father going to speak with him, but when she opened her mouth to say something, he shook his head, glanced at her mother, and then sent her a silent message.

They'd never communicated properly, but in that instant she understood that he didn't want to talk about it then because it would upset her mother.

"That's
gut
news," he said in his usual brusque tone.

So it wasn't the enthusiasm her mother had displayed. Well, her
dat
had never displayed emotion like her
mamm.
Sometimes, growing up, she'd wondered why she got the parents she had—well, parent, mostly. Her father was so harsh, so critical. If God truly loved her, why hadn't He given her a father who'd love her like He supposedly did? Didn't the Bible say we were made in His image?

And her
mamm.
She had always reminded Mary Katherine of a scared little mouse, scurrying around looking anxious about pleasing her
mann.

"Mary Katherine says she can't stay for supper," Miriam was saying. "She has something she needs to do. Maybe someone she needs to see," she said coyly, glancing at her daughter. "She needs to wash up before she goes."

She debated telling her mother that she wasn't going to see Jacob—that they'd fought and she was hurting. He wasn't just the man she'd fallen in love with. He'd become her best friend.

Afraid she was going to burst into tears, she went into the bathroom to scrub her hands, and when she came out she found her parents discussing something in tense, hushed whispers.

"I just put Ned up," her father was saying.

"Well, get him out again. This is your daughter we're talking about," her mother hissed back. "I don't want her walking so far when it'll be dark soon."

Not wanting to appear to be eavesdropping, Mary Katherine made her steps heavier and louder so that her parents looked up and immediately stopped talking.

Sub sandwiches from a local shop were waiting on the table, and some of her mother's homemade soup sent out a delicious aroma as it heated.

Something felt very off here . . .

"Supper's ready," her father had said.

Okay, the sandwiches were bought, but the man who always said buying food out was a waste had obviously done so, and had set the table and warmed the soup while her mother sat on the porch with her.

What was going on?

"Your father is going to drive you where you need to go," her mother told her, lifting her chin.

Mary Katherine looked at her father and he nodded.

"I'll get Ned hitched up," he said in his usual brusque tone.

"You don't have to—"

"Your mother wants it that way," he told her, and he left them.

Since when had what her mother wanted mattered to him? Mary Katherine wondered. But she didn't say anything. After a long day at work she wasn't really interested in a long walk and didn't want to strap her budget even further than it was. When her mother had been recovering, Mary Katherine had often had to hire Nick or one of his cab and shuttle company's drivers to visit her at the hospital and then drive her home later.

Her mother impulsively hugged her, and then she cupped Mary Katherine's cheeks and gazed into her eyes. "Now, don't you two kill each other, all right?"

"I can't promise anything," Mary Katherine muttered.

She climbed into the buggy and sat as far from him as she could, wishing the buggy was bigger. They rode in silence for a time, and then she turned to him.

"Why was
Mamm
driving earlier?"

He glanced at her, then back again at the road. "Said she wanted to."

"And supper. You were making supper, weren't you?"

"Never happy, are you? You wanted me to help, and when I do, you criticize." He frowned.

"Well, I
am
my father's daughter."

He pulled the buggy into a drive and turned to her. "What is that supposed to mean?"

She folded her hands on her lap and lifted her chin. "When I stopped by to see the bishop about joining the church, he told me that you went to him to complain about me."

"That," he said, calling to Ned and getting the buggy back on the road.

"That!" she sputtered. "That!"

"I didn't go to complain about you," he said after a moment. "I went to him for advice. After you stormed out."

"Advice? From him?" She huffed out a breath and shook her head. "I can just imagine what he said."

He lapsed into silence, and she sat there and seethed.

Jacob's farm came into view. It was almost halfway between her childhood home and her grandmother's—what had become home for her. That hadn't been lost on her. She'd once thought about how convenient it would be to visit both homes . . . although she'd imagined back then that there would be few visits from her parents—at least from her father.

At first she thought it was a trick of her imagination, the fact that the light was fading, that she saw Jacob walking his fields. Maybe she thought she saw him because she wanted to.

But as the buggy passed the farm, she saw that it was, indeed, Jacob, standing there in his newly sown fields. Her fingers tightened on the window of the buggy as she saw that he stood there, gazing into the far distance.

Again, it had to be her imagination that he looked lonely. Perhaps it was just that she wanted to believe that he missed her as she missed him. He seemed so confident, so self-possessed, especially at home here on his farm he loved so much.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No!" she said quickly, wincing when the sound reverberated in the small buggy. "No," she told him in a quieter tone.

From the corner of her eye she saw Jacob turn and catch sight of the buggy. Their eyes met.

"Your
mamm
seemed to think you'd want to."

"Well, she was wrong." Mary Katherine stared straight ahead.

"He's waving to you."

"Doesn't matter."

He hesitated but kept the buggy rolling.

"What is it?" she asked, sensing something.

"Your mother was hoping you'd want to be dropped off to see Jacob. Said something about hearing you two had had a disagreement."

"It's more than a disagreement." She forced herself not to look back at Jacob.

"It's none of our business. But I don't like to go back and tell her I didn't do one of the few things she's asked me to do in all the years we've been married."

Thoughtful, Mary Katherine studied him. "Tell her I'm going to go talk to Jacob. I'm just not ready yet," she said slowly.

"He's a good man."

This was the most she could remember her father saying in years. Most dating—the older folks often liked to call it courting—was done quietly, without telling the parents until the time came to announce the upcoming wedding. Her grandmother and her cousins knew that she and Jacob were seeing each other and that they'd had a falling out, but that was it.

She'd avoided Jacob for days, ignoring the rose and note apologizing for hurting her and asking to speak to her that he'd had delivered to Jamie's apartment, the messages he'd left for her at her grandmother's house. She didn't know how to resolve the argument they'd had. If a man didn't trust what you had together, what you were to each other, how could you fix that? Jealousy, envy, these were things that weren't familiar to her. Shouldn't be familiar to her. They had no place in a relationship.

She'd sensed there was a little tension between the two men but never guessed that Jacob would suspect Daniel of being underhanded and trying to draw her away from him.

When her father stopped the buggy at her grandmother's house, she got out. Just as she was shutting the door, she saw her father watching her.

"I didn't listen to his advice," he said. "The bishop's," he explained, turning to stare out his window. "He told me I was the head of the home, that I was right to try to quell your rebellious spirit, to have you and my
fraa
defer to me and serve me in that office."

She started to make an angry retort, to say that she bet he liked being vindicated in his tyrannical ways by the religious leader of the community. But before she could, he bent his head and said something she couldn't hear.

"What?"

"I went home, feeling pleased that he'd backed me up," he said, looking up and meeting her eyes. "I found my
fraa
lying there pale and ill on the sofa, crying that she'd lost her only
kind.
She blamed me and said things she'd been holding back for years."

Sighing, he stroked his beard and looked thoughtful. "So my religious leader is telling me I was correct, that he supported me, and that I was doing what God had decreed the roles of men and women should be. But I had my
fraa
blaming me for losing us our only
kind."

Emotion seemed to overcome him. He jerked on the reins, and the buggy began moving away.

Mary Katherine watched it roll down the road until she couldn't see the reflective triangle on the back any longer. She walked up the steps and sank into a rocker, not ready to go inside yet.

Light spilled out the window of the front door as her grandmother peered out. She opened the door. "I thought I heard someone out here. Why didn't you come in? Did you lose your key?"

Rising, Mary Katherine shook her head. "My father just dropped me off. I was thinking."

Leah draped her arm around her. "Come inside and let's talk about it."

She shut the door behind them. "I kept your supper warm. And no telling me that you're too upset to eat. You need to eat."

17

J
acob got a polite smile but nothing more from Mary Katherine after church later in the week.

He wasn't surprised. She'd been avoiding him for some time, and he never found her at home the several times he had gone to her grandmother's. He couldn't just drop everything and run into town to see her at the shop.

He'd been so surprised to see Isaac driving his buggy past his farm with Mary Katherine sitting beside him earlier in the week—even more surprised when she didn't return his greeting and stared stonily ahead as they passed. But he couldn't blame her. He knew the blame rested solely on himself.

"I want to talk to you," his sister, Rebecca, said to him.

He'd seen that look in her eye before. She'd given it to him right before she and her sisters and their
mamm
had stopped dropping off cooked food for him. What could she do to him now?

He lifted his chin. "What about?"

"I want to know what happened to you and Mary Katherine."

It was tempting to tell her that it was his business, but he'd learned a long time ago that she was relentless. If she didn't get it out of him, she'd get the other women in the family to join forces.

"I said something—"

She gave him a long-suffering sigh. "You and that big foot you stick in your mouth. Should I go get the salt and pepper shakers?"

But she must have seen something in his face because her expression softened. "You're such a good
bruder.
Such a good man. I thought Mary Katherine knew that. If a woman judges a man only by what he says—"

"Daniel's so smooth," he said and he couldn't hide the bitterness. "Someone let me know that he'd come back into town and was seen holding Mary Katherine's hand."

She grabbed his shirt and pulled him out of the room full of people. He slapped at her hands and finally dislodged them just as Mary Katherine looked up across the room and he saw her try to hide her smile.

Well, to see that smile bloom again . . . it was worth being embarrassed by his sister.

He followed her out onto the porch.

"So you were jealous," she said, putting her hands on her hips.

"I'm a grown man," he said. "I don't need to be scolded like a little
kind."

"
Nee.
But jealousy is something we shouldn't see in an adult. And especially not in an adult male. Women don't find it attractive."

He sighed. "That I know."

She tapped a finger against her mouth, frowning and thinking hard. "Is it that you were jealous because you thought no one else should have Mary Katherine? Or is it that you're afraid of losing her?"

"The second, of course," he said, affronted. "I'm surprised that you would even think that I'd be like that guy in the next town who was obsessed with his ex-girlfriend."

She shivered. "I know. But there are some men who don't take rejection well." She studied him. "There are men who have smooth tongues, who can charm a woman and manipulate them like that man. Then there are men who choose to let their actions speak what kind of man they are. You're not the first. Will you be the second?"

"You really think I have something to offer her?"

"Oh my," she whispered, staring at him.

"What?" He wondered if he had something on his face she stared at him so.

"I never thought that you might be insecure. How did I miss that?"

"Shh!" he hissed and looked around to see if anyone walking in and out of the house had heard her.

She gave him an impulsive hug. "You have so much to offer a woman. And it's wrong to think otherwise. Besides, remember, she must have thought so if the two of you grew so close. It was you that caused the problem with insecurity and jealousy."

With that she left him.

The day was rainy and gray. Few ventured out in the wet. Anna sighed happily as she sat, knitting, before a fire crackling in the fireplace. Naomi sat in a nearby chair stitching on a quilt, and their grandmother dressed the little faceless dolls she had made for the shop, a fond smile on her lips.

She glanced up at Mary Katherine sitting before her loom. "I remember making these dolls for all three of you."

"I still have mine in my room."

"I know. I've seen it."

"It's probably a little childish to have her sitting on my dresser."

Leah swept a fond glance over them. "Not at all. I'm pleased you loved her enough to keep her."

"She reminds me of my childhood."

Anna grinned. "I still have mine. She's wrapped up in her own little quilt in a box in my closet, waiting to be given to my own daughter when I have one."

"I gave mine to one of our little cousins when she was spending the night," Naomi confided. "She woke from a nightmare and it comforted her. But the next day she didn't want to give it back, so I let her keep it. I'm afraid that the doll was well-loved and isn't in any shape to pass on to a daughter."

"A doll should be loved like that," Leah said, tucking stuffing into a doll's cheek. "I'll make you another."

Leah glanced over at Mary Katherine. "You're being awfully quiet."

Mary Katherine poked her finger at the last few rows she'd woven. "Something's wrong with this."

Anna rose and came to stand behind her. "Looks fine to me."

She shook her head. "There, don't you see the flaw?"

"
Nee.
Naomi, you come look."

Naomi tucked her needle safely in her quilt, stood up, and walked over to study the pattern. "I don't see anything, either. Sorry, Mary Katherine." She walked over and resumed her seat.

Something was off about Naomi. Mary Katherine couldn't help wondering if she was having a problem with John, just as she was with Jacob.

She pulled out a row, then another and another, until she'd pulled out a half-foot and her breath was coming hard. Tears burned behind her eyelids.

"
Kumm,"
her grandmother urged, taking her by her shoulders and helping her rise. "Let's go into the back room and talk."

She jerked her head up and found Anna and Naomi regarding her with sympathy.

"Lock the door and turn the sign to "Closed,' " Leah told Anna.

"No, no, if a customer comes out in the rain I don't want her to go away disappointed."

"We haven't had a customer in two hours," Leah said. "I don't think we have to worry about that."

"I'll watch the shop," Anna volunteered. "If we get a herd of customers, I'll yell for you."

So Mary Katherine followed Leah and Naomi into the back room and watched as Naomi made tea. She rubbed her forehead. It always seemed to be hurting lately. Crying herself to sleep some nights probably didn't help. Lying awake others didn't either.

"I remember telling you once that a cup of tea didn't cure everything," she said, looking at her grandmother. "You said that it's the talking that does that."

Leah nodded. "And it's time you did some talking. To Jacob. You've avoided him long enough. You hurt. Tell him so. Either the two of you will fix it or you'll walk away from each other. Pray, talk, and then know it's in God's hands."

Such simple words. Such a huge task. She didn't think she was up to it. "I'm afraid," she whispered.

Her grandmother reached for her hands and held them. "
Ach,
I know. But it's not fair to blame Jacob for too much hurt, is it?"

"But he was the one who hurt me."

Leah shook her head. "You've been carrying around a lot of hurt for a long time."

"My father."

Nodding, Leah patted her hand. "It's made you afraid to love. Afraid to trust."

"You have to give him another chance," Naomi said quietly. "He's tried to say he's sorry."

"And that's supposed to be enough?" Mary Katherine asked. "What if he just keeps hurting me and expecting another chance?"

"You won't know until you give him a second chance," Naomi told her. "Then you can decide if you go forward . . ." She paused. "Or not."

Mary Katherine stood and walked to the door. "Anna, could you come in here for a minute?"

She appeared a moment later, holding a bolt of fabric in her arms. "What is it?"

Holding out her arms, Mary Katherine gestured for them to step into her embrace. "I love you all. I wouldn't know what to do without you."

"Don't even try," Anna warned, her breath coming out in a squeak. "I'm getting squished here!"

Mary Katherine laughed and stepped back, letting her arms fall to her side.

"So you'll talk to Jacob?"

"Yes."

"When?" Anna wanted to know.

"Soon."

"After church tomorrow would be a good time," Leah said, bringing the tea to the table. She sat and smiled. "Don't you think?"

Mary Katherine bit back a smile as she shook her head and rolled her eyes. She picked up her tea and drank it. "Soon."

Funny thing, Mary Katherine thought. She'd been sitting in church every other Sunday for more than a year now— well, not in a church building but in different homes that held church services—and she'd never really heard God speaking to her until she and Jenny had talked that one recent Sunday.

And today.

Well, it wasn't God, exactly. It was Ike, one of the lay ministers, a bookish young man who worked in an RV assembly plant during the day and helped on his family's farm on the weekends.

Looking over the wire-rimmed glasses he wore, he stroked his beard and talked about a passage in Exodus about honoring parents.

Mary Katherine felt some resistance for just a moment, remembering how she and her father had fought that day when he talked of the same thing. Ike spoke of God's love for His children—and His children's love for their children. Generations of love, he said, but sometimes the generations didn't get along because they didn't speak the same language. Their words and their actions weren't what the other used or expected, and so there was distance and misunderstanding. Even anger.

But when we looked beyond these differences in words and actions, he said, used empathy and understanding and forgiveness, we could know a greater love: God's visible love in all areas of our lives.

Mary Katherine found herself thinking about Ike's words long after he had finished. When she realized people were milling around, getting ready to leave, she looked for her grandmother.

"Have you seen
Mamm
and
Dat?"
Mary Katherine asked her when she found her in the kitchen.

"I spoke with your mother yesterday, and she said your
dat
had wrenched his knee planting. She wasn't sure they'd be here today."

"Oh." She looked around.

"I believe Jacob just walked outside."

"I don't want to—"

"Remember how Jacob was worried Daniel might steal you away?"

"Well, I don't think those were his exact words but—"

"I saw Becky Raber follow him outside."

With a swish of skirts, Leah turned and headed toward the kitchen door.

Mary Katherine considered that for a moment. Becky was a sweet girl but a big flirt. Mary Katherine might think she had time to talk to Jacob, but Becky moved fast . . .