Katie's Choice (21 page)

He glanced at John Paul again. “Mind if we take one of the rabbits to the deacon?”

John Paul smiled as if he knew what Zane had been thinking, as if he were proud that the
Englischer
finally “got” it. “How about we take two of them to Katie Rose? She can make somethin’ for them and somethin’ for the deacon as well.”

Perfect.

They gathered their kill and started back the way they came, winding around and through the mismatched trees and toward the house. John Paul veered off to the left, and they eventually found themselves behind Gabriel’s house. The wash was still pinned to the line, the colder temperatures lengthening the drying time.

John Paul nodded toward the back door. “Go on. It is your meat.”

His meat. He shouldn’t be so prideful over something so simple. Maybe that was why the Amish warned against pride.

Zane took the cooler to the small back stoop and knocked.

A few minutes passed before he knocked again, and Katie Rose jerked the door open almost as soon as his knuckles touched the wood.

“Zane Carson.” Her voice sounded breathy, as if she’d been running a marathon.

“Katie Rose.” His didn’t sound much better.

He hadn’t seen her in weeks, but she’d never been far from his thoughts. Suddenly he felt as shy as a schoolboy with a crush on the teacher.

Pull yourself together, man.

“John Paul and I went hunting for turkey this morning, and we found a few rabbits as well. We thought you and Gabe might like a couple. And the deacon.”

He opened the cooler and took out two of the rabbits.

He couldn’t read her expression. She looked . . . stunned. What did that mean for him? Stunned as in
I can’t believe you killed an innocent animal?
Or stunned as in
I can’t believe you’re such a big strong he-man and brought me food for the table?

Maybe the last one was pushing it a bit, but that’s how he wanted her to feel. He’d stepped outside of his box today, and he was proud of himself. He wanted her to feel the same way about him.

Her shoulders relaxed, and she gave him a small smile, though it promptly disappeared. “
Danki
, Zane Carson,” she said. “Your gift is most appreciated.”

Warmth flowed through him, as if the sun was shining straight out of his heart. “You’re very welcome.” He bowed, not knowing what else to do, and then turned to leave.

He got as far as the bottom of the steps before she called out to him. “I will see you on Thanksgiving, Zane Carson.”

And the sun shone even brighter.

Thanksgiving Day dawned bright and sunny, but cold. Frost covered everything in sight, making the world look strewn with diamonds.

Despite the holiday, Zane and John Paul went out to take care of the morning milking as soon as they got up. Breakfast was a simple affair of thick-crusted pie, dried fruits, nuts, and a hunk of sharp cheddar cheese. Back home that would have been an odd combination, and Zane might have refused, but somehow today it seemed more natural than toast and eggs. Pickle-making had been put on hold for the holiday, and Zane’s job for the day was to stay out of the way. Every time he stepped near the kitchen the women sent him disapproving looks that no man should have to suffer. As much as he wanted to help, he decided to use the time to get a few of his notes organized. So he spent the morning upstairs, going through the pages he’d collected so far.

He shook his head at the changes he’d been through in nearly two months. He had learned so much about the Amish culture, so much that at times he felt as if he actually belonged here. Other times he wondered how anyone could keep up with the ins and outs of the
Ordnung
.

He had learned that the list of rules changed from district to district. While Bishop Beachy had decided that his members should be allowed to ride bikes and have phone shanties on their property, the neighboring district was not allowed these luxuries.

One thing seemed certain: they all believed in Jesus as their Savior. Zane thought back to his walk home with Katie Rose, how peacefully adamant she had been about her faith. A piece of him wanted a little of that for himself, to believe that a higher power cared enough to guide his daily life, cared enough to give him what he needed.

But you do believe
.

The voice was there in his head, and for the first time in his life Zane knew that he did believe in God. He had just never really thought about it. Never gone to church, never had anyone question his faith. Not even in the Middle East where wars were fought over religion every day.

The thought made him sad. Why was it that people couldn’t get along? Why wasn’t believing enough?

Yet without the wars, he wouldn’t have a job. That’s what he did, he covered wars, showed their horrors and brought in a hefty paycheck to do so.

A twinge of guilt settled in his heart, but he pushed it away. He loved living life on the edge. His job made him feel alive, made his heart beat faster. He needed it to know that he was truly alive.

He looked down at the drawing he held in his hands. When he’d first arrived, Abram had made it perfectly clear: no pictures. He had hoped by now to have changed the patriarch’s mind. Despite all of Jo’s determined coercing, Abram had not relented. So he’d taken up drawing instead. He couldn’t see the difference between one and the other, but there was something about pencil and paper that captured more emotion than he could with camera and film.

There was the one of Annie standing at the stove, only the side of her face showing, her hair escaping in short little tendrils unlike the other women who had never had a haircut. There was one of John Paul low on the milking stool. And his favorite, the one of Katie Rose in front of the class teaching the minds of tomorrow. He had taken a page from the Amish dolls and not given anyone a face. Somehow that made the pictures distinctive, so much so that he wanted to keep them for himself. He hadn’t told anyone about them. Not even Monica. It would be easier just to not turn them in with the few generic photographs he’d taken of the barn and the house. These drawings he’d made of these people he’d grown to care for were too special to let slip through his fingers.

Katie Rose watched her breath dissipate into the sunshine. Thanksgiving Day, and she had so much to be thankful for.

How many times was she going to say that to remind herself?

She did have a lot to be thankful for, but as the holidays set in, she found herself often wishing for . . . more.

Was this truly God’s plan for her, and if it was, why did He let her have these feelings? A sense that she didn’t have the life she was destined to have encroached on her mind. Unhappy as a teacher, she felt unworthy for the blessings God had bestowed on her. She bowed her head and said a quick prayer asking for forgiveness. She had so much more than a lot of folks, and for the most part, she was happy. She was.

“Katie Rose? Are you comin’?”

She opened her eyes to realize she had been sitting in the buggy all alone. Mary Elizabeth had taken the box containing pies and the dish of scalloped potatoes into the house. Gabriel had helped all the boys down, and now he and Samuel were waiting on her to finish up and precede them inside.

“
Jah
, I . . .” There wasn’t anything to explain. It wasn’t unusual to stop and pray. That was why women wore prayer
kapps
. There was nothing wrong with that, but she felt the heat rise in her cheeks. They had to be bright pink, but with any luck she could blame it on the cold if she were asked. A white lie, but surely forgivable.

Gabriel helped her down from the buggy and together the threesome made their way into the house. To the outsider they surely appeared like a family: husband and wife and child. Surely they did. Maybe Katie Rose had let Gabriel’s need color her own decisions.

Or had it been her own need for a place to escape all the sad looks and pity? She had put on a brave face and pretended like all was well. That she was more than satisfied to help her
bruder
in his time of need, when all she had been doing was hiding her feelings and pretending like she wasn’t hurt. She had pushed those feelings deep inside and not let them see the light of day. And that’s where she would keep them. It was too late to mourn now. She had made her choice, and she would have to live with it.

“My goodness, Katie Rose”—Annie broke away from the kitchen and crossed the room to give her a tight sisterly hug—“You look—”

“It’s from the cold,” she blurted before Annie could finish.

“I was going to say angry.”

She shook her head, her lips pressed together to keep all of her secrets from tumbling out. Since she had been here, Annie had been like a sister to her, had almost taken the place of her blood sister, Megan. Megan had clearly been their father’s favorite, and her leaving had nearly broken his heart.

Katie Rose released Annie and ignored her frown of concern. She couldn’t admit out loud that just the thought of their
Englischer
visitor sent bright color rushing to her cheeks. Of its own accord, her gaze scanned the room and found Zane, sitting on the couch, one ankle crossed over the opposite knee. He had a coffee cup in one hand and a smile on his face.

Her stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch.

Annie followed her gaze. “So that’s how it is?”

Katie Rose shook her head. “
Nay
.”

“Well, something’s put that mournful look in your eyes.”

Katie Rose squeezed Annie’s hand. Today she should be especially thankful that the Lord had sent Annie to them. “Maybe we can talk after we eat.”

Annie’s sharp, lavender-colored eyes softened with affection. “You can count on it.”

9

A
s usual the house was filled with love and noise. Aside from Christmas, Thanksgiving was Katie Rose’s favorite holiday for fellowship, even topping Easter. The Easter holiday tended to be more quiet and subdued, a time to reflect on the sacrifices God had made for His believers. Thanksgiving was about taking stock of blessings, eating heartily, and reminding oneself of the things for which they were thankful.

They were just about to sit down and eat when a knock came at the door.

Looks were exchanged all around the room. Who could it be on a day like today? Yet Katie Rose knew. It had just slipped her mind once she’d gotten so caught up with her feelings—
nay
, thoughts—about Zane Carson.

She stood up, ready to tell her family that she had invited a guest for supper, when Zane beat her to her feet. He rubbed his hands down the front of his barn door trousers and looked sheepishly from one to the other of them. “I hope it’s okay. I invited Ezekiel Esh to supper.”

A chorus of
jahs
went up around the room. Katie Rose hid her smile. She and Zane had invited the same guest. Katie Rose had asked the deacon to come and sup with them when she had taken him a pot of rabbit stew. She had been worried about him. She knew she couldn’t be the only one in a district full of caring souls, but she had to make sure the man knew that his closest neighbor was thinking about him as the holidays approached.