Katie's Choice (37 page)

She had tried to push all thoughts of Zane Carson from her mind, but they kept surfacing time and again. She pictured him fishing, opening his Bible, and at the schoolhouse saying good-bye. That had been one long week ago. The longest of her life. She could never remember feeling like this when Samuel left, so bereft and sad. But she must have been. How could she care more for an
Englischer
she had barely known for three months than she did the bishop’s son, whom she had known all of her life? She had promised that when she felt better she would walk down. The day was sunny and cold, so as long as the wind didn’t pick up too much she would be just fine. If she kept these ruminations up, she would find herself in bed with a rag over her face, instead of spending the afternoon with her parents.

A knock sounded on the door. Katie Rose jumped, pressing a hand to her heart to slow its beating. “Comin’.”

Who could that be on Old Christmas? Only one person she supposed.
Jah
. Samuel Beachy stood on the other side of the threshold, looking more like the man she fell in love with than he had since he returned. Black coat, black hat, and scarf that she supposed Noni knitted for him. Though his hair was still in the
Englisch
cut, she reckoned that under his coat he wore a blue shirt to match his eyes and a black
for gut
vest.

She nodded her head. “Samuel.”

“Katie Rose.” He bent his head and brushed a sweet kiss on her cheek. He smelled of sandalwood and mint toothpaste, but she couldn’t raise even the slightest thump of her heart over the familiarity.

“I told you I was here to stay.”

“That you did.” Had he? She couldn’t remember.

“May I come in?”

“
Jah
, of course.” She stood back and let him enter.

He pulled off his coat, scarf, and hat and hung them on the peg inside the door. Underneath were the shirt and vest, just as she predicted. Who was it that said the more things change, the more they stay the same? They certainly knew Samuel Beachy.

He warmed his hands by the fire, then settled himself on the couch.

She hovered by the door, not sure what to make of this visit.

“Come.” He patted the seat next to him. “Sit by me. We have a lot to talk about.”

“We do?”

“
Jah
.”

Katie Rose moved to sit next to him, wondering at the wisdom of the decision. She perched on the edge, able to pop to her feet if need be.

“Why are you acting so skittish?” He chuckled. “It’s me, Katie Rose. I came back for you.”

“W-what?”

“I know I hurt you in the past. If I had thought you would have gone with me, I would have taken you along.”

“I might have. If you’d asked.”

He sat looking a bit dumbfounded at this news.

“Are you surprised? I loved you so much.”

He swallowed hard, his confidence slipping. “You say loved—past tense. Does that mean . . . ?”

“Love doesn’t die easily, Samuel Beachy.” It was the best answer she could give him. She didn’t know how she felt anymore. She had loved him once upon a time, and she thought that love to be stronger than anything in the world. Turned out she was wrong.

“I never stopped loving you, Katie Rose. Never stopped wishing you were at my side. It’s taken me a long time to get to the truth, and the truth is, if I can’t have you in the
Englisch
world, then I’ll come back to the Amish world for you.”

She stood, shaking her head. “
Nay
, it should not be like that. You should want to be here for God, your family, all the other pillars we stand for, not for me.”

He was on his feet in a flash, cupping her face in his hands and turning it toward him. “That’s the beauty of it, don’t you see? Here I can have everything: God, my family, you. It took me leaving to know what I had.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but he kissed her instead.

She pulled away, but he held her close, his mouth inches from hers. “We can have it all. A family, everything that we planned before will be ours now. Marry me, Katie Rose.”

How many times over the last six years had she wished for him to say those words to her? Countless. But now that he had? She wasn’t sure how to respond.

He pressed his cheek to hers. “We can tell our families tonight.” He wasn’t asking. He was taking it for granted, assuming that she had been waiting for him all of these years.

You have been
.

But it was different now. And yet it wasn’t. Zane had gone and had taken with him a big chunk of her heart. This was her chance at happiness and family, a home of her own, the children she had secretly longed for her entire life.

Zane was gone, and Samuel was here. What choice did she have?

18

W
hat do you think? This one”—Monica pointed to two different patterns of china on display—“or this one?”

At least he assumed they were different. Zane could barely focus on another plate. And he certainly couldn’t tell the difference between the two white, gold-rimmed choices presented to him. “Uh-huh.”

“Zane, are you listening?”

He met Monica’s eyes. “Of course I am.” He hated the lie that slipped from his lips, but he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. He hadn’t been listening. He’d been back in Clover Ridge, wondering how Ruth was faring, if John Paul’s driving had improved any. And if Katie Rose had agreed to marry Samuel Beachy.

Monica studied him, her blue eyes intense as they searched his face.

Zane said a little prayer that she wouldn’t see the truth there, the fact that he would go back tomorrow if given half the chance. Clover Ridge hung like unfinished business around him. Called to him. Made him wonder if his life could be different—
should
be different.

Zane averted his gaze first, staring across the room toward the big round clock on the wall. Wherever did they get a clock that size?

“I think you could use a break.”

“Hmm.” Definitely. They had been looking at house stuff all morning, registering for the wedding they hadn’t even set a date for yet.

“We’ll finish another day,” Monica told the obviously disappointed clerk. She pushed her arms into the sleeves of her coat.

“There’s a coffee shop just down the corner,” the ever helpful, commissioned clerk said as Zane pulled on his coat. The way it flapped around his knees annoyed him. Funny, but he’d never noticed that before.

“Thank you.” Monica smiled at the clerk, then looped her arm through Zane’s and nudged him outside.

The coffee shop was three stores down from the department store, the kind of place that served double mocha nonfat lattes, but frowned if a person ordered a regular coffee. The weather being what it was—cold—the place was crowded. Zane placed their orders and paid for their coffees as Monica found them a table.

“I don’t think it’s Avery.” She snapped her fingers, then gave a knowing nod. “Maybe that blonde. Katie Rose. She is very pretty. Every girl I know would kill to have skin like that. And those eyes.”

Zane sat back. “What are you talking about, Monica?”

She took a tentative sip of her coffee and eyed him over the rim of the oversized mug. “You’re in love, of course.”

“Of course,” he repeated, hiding the fact that his heart plummeted to his feet as she said the words. He hid his reaction, staring into his coffee and stirring it as if his life depended on it.

“With the Amish girl.”

He looked up. “No.”

“Zane, something’s going on. We’ve known each other too long to not be honest now.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about love. This month’s issue of
Talk
is how to tell if you’re in love.”

“Of course I’m in love. We’re getting married, aren’t we?”

She flashed him a patronizing smile as she pulled her iPad from her bag. “Not with me.”

“Listen.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. This conversation was getting way out of hand. “I’ll admit that I got a little caught up in the simplicity of their life, but I did not fall in love with anyone while I was there.”

“Uh-huh.” She busily tapped the screen on the tablet till she got to the page she wanted. “
How to Tell If He’s Still in Love with You or If He’s Set His Sails for a Different Shore
.”

“Seriously?”

She shot him another quelling look. “Number one: moony-eyed. Uh-huh.”

“Moony-eyed? It really says that?”

“Easily distracted. Check. Defensive.” She dragged out the word as if she were a lawyer for the prosecution. “Definitely.”

“Monica.” His voice was low with warning. Or was he being defensive?

“Then kiss me.”

He straightened. “What?”

“You haven’t kissed me once since you got back.”

“Sure I have.” Had he?

Monica shook her head with a tiny little smile. “Kiss me.”

“Right here?”

“Yeah.”

“But there are a ton of people in here.”

“So?”

“Any of them could be from the newspaper or the tabloids.”

“Good publicity.”

He couldn’t refuse, even though he wanted to. He pulled her to her feet and angled his head for the kiss.

There was no flash of excitement—only annoyance—which had to be blocking his true feelings. Of course he was excited about kissing Monica. He lifted his head. Or maybe later he would be.

Monica was staring at him.

“See?” he said.

“Yeah. I do.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’re definitely in love.”

“Toldja.”

“Just not with me.”

He dropped his arms to his sides. “Monica.”

So the kiss was not a set-the-world-on-fire kind of kiss. That didn’t necessarily mean anything.

Monica pressed her lips together as if she were smoothing out her lipstick. Like she could taste his intentions. “Nope, not in love. At least not with me.”

“That’s insane, Monica.” He stood and grabbed his coat off the back of the chair. He’d had enough of this strange conversation. “If you want to call this off just say so.”

She shook her head, her eyes filled with sadness and regret. “I don’t want to break up, but I don’t want a marriage of three, either.”

Zane did his best to ignore Monica’s words pinging around in his head at the least opportune time—like constantly. He was not in love with Katie Rose. How could he be? He hadn’t even kissed her.

And thankfully, Monica hadn’t brought it up again. Not even when he asked her to go to church with him on Sunday.

“Really? You want to go to church?”

“I think it would be a very good way to restart our relationship.”

She dipped her chin and frowned, but in the end, she agreed.

Sunday dawned with an excitement like he’d never felt before. He walked into the Methodist church amazed at the beauty of the building alone. High-arched ceilings of polished oak; long, padded pews to match; and brightly colored stained glass windows added to the overall beauty. The sanctuary was awe inspiring, and he knew God was there. How could God not want to be in such a beautiful place?

At the end of the service everyone stood, then the pastor called for those who wanted to know more about Jesus and the changes He could make in their lives.

Zane’s legs flinched as if they wanted to walk down that aisle with no direction from him. But he was uncertain. Should he go? Would they laugh at him because this was his first time in a church? Or would they understand that religion usually came from a person’s upbringing, and that he hadn’t experienced anything other than earth worship.

He wouldn’t go. Monica was sitting closest to the aisle, and several people sat on his other side. No sense disturbing them. How could he mess up their church experience by pushing past them to get down front?

Seconds ticked by. He stood still, pushing down the urge to move. Finally, Monica stepped into the aisle, then reached for his elbow. He stepped into the aisle with her, and with a knowing smile, she led him down to the altar and to the waiting deacon.

He stood there for a moment, unable to speak, and then the words tumbled out, one by one. So many thoughts, questions. It felt amazing to talk to someone about Jesus. Even better to bow his head and pray to invite Jesus into his heart. A warmth like he had never known filled him, and he walked out of the church that day a changed man.