[Kentucky Brothers 01] - The Journey (6 page)

“No, you did.” Abby set her cup down and placed her hand on Fannie’s arm. “When I first came to Pennsylvania to help when you were pregnant, I never thought I’d move here permanently. It was only to be until after the twins were born and I was sure you could handle things on your own. If my boyfriend, Lester, hadn’t died in that horrible fire, trying to save my quilts, I would have gone back to Ohio to marry him as soon as you were able to handle things on your own.” Deep wrinkles formed across her forehead. “After Lester died, I saw no reason to stay in Ohio. So in a way, I was doing exactly what Titus has done. I left one place and moved to another in order to get away from unpleasant memories.”

Fannie blew her nose on the napkin. “I know you’re right, but it’s more than just missing Titus that has me so upset.”

“What else?”

“I’m worried that since one of my sons has left home, some of the others may decide to leave, too.” Fannie nearly choked on the sob rising in her throat. “If more of the family goes, I don’t think I could stand it. I really don’t.”

“As Abraham always says, ‘Let’s not put the buggy before the horse.’ All the men in our family have good jobs here, so it’s not likely that any of them will leave Pennsylvania.”

“I hope you’re right.”

A knock sounded on the back door, interrupting their conversation.

“I wonder who that could be.” Fannie dabbed at her tears again. “I really don’t feel like company today.”

“I’ll go see.” The chair scraped noisily across the linoleum as Abby pushed it aside and stood. “Should I tell whoever it is that you’re not up to visitors today?”

Fannie waved a hand. “No, don’t do that. It would seem rude. You’d better just invite whoever it is to come in.”

Abby left the kitchen and returned moments later with Phoebe Stoltzfus at her side.

Fannie clenched her fingers so tightly that the damp napkin she held began to pull apart. The last person she wanted to see right now was the young woman responsible for her son’s decision to move away.

“Is Titus here?” Phoebe asked. “I need to speak to him.”

Fannie shook her head. “No, he’s—”

“I stopped by Matthew’s woodshop but it was closed, so I thought maybe Matthew had gone somewhere with his family and had given Titus the day off.”

“Matthew had some errands to run in town, and as you can see, I’m right here,” Abby said. “And of course, our
kinner
are in school today.” She looked over at Fannie. “Would you like to tell her, or should I?”

“Tell me what?” Phoebe pulled out a chair and sat down.

Fannie’s lips compressed as she tapped her fingers along the edge of the table. “Titus is gone—moved to Kentucky—thanks to you.”

Phoebe’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you serious?”

Fannie gave a nod. “Took all his clothes and even his horse.”

“But … but I had no idea Titus was planning to leave Pennsylvania. He didn’t say a word about it when I talked to him the other day.” Phoebe wrinkled her nose, as though some foul odor had permeated the room. “Some people have a lot of nerve!”

“Jah, they sure do.” Fannie stared hard at Phoebe. “And I’m looking at such a person right now.”

Phoebe’s face flamed. “You think it’s my fault that Titus moved to Kentucky?”

“That’s exactly what I think. He made the decision after you broke up with him and said you were going to California.”

“I didn’t actually break up with him. I just said—”

“It makes no never mind. Titus is gone, and he left because of you.”

Phoebe sat with a shocked expression. Then with a loud
humph
, she jumped up, nearly knocking over her chair, and dashed out the door.

Fannie blew out her breath in exasperation. “I know it’s not right to wish the worst for anyone, but I hope that selfish young woman is miserable in California and gets exactly what she deserves!”

P
hoebe leaned her head against the window in the passenger’s side of Darlene’s car and closed her eyes. They’d left Lancaster County earlier that evening, after a tearful good-bye from Phoebe’s parents. Mom had begged her not to go, and Dad had given her a stern lecture on not becoming caught up in worldly pleasures.

I still can’t believe Titus went to Kentucky without telling me
, Phoebe thought bitterly.
What’s in Kentucky, anyhow? Will Titus find someone else to take my place? Will he end up marrying someone there and stay in Kentucky for good? Should I have listened to him and stayed in Pennsylvania? Should I have agreed to join the church and marry him? But if I’d stayed in Pennsylvania, I might never have had the chance to see California. Besides, I have a lot more living to do before I tie myself down to a husband and kids
.

“I’ll bet he doesn’t stay in Kentucky even a year,” she muttered under her breath.

“What was that?” Darlene asked.

Phoebe’s eyes snapped open. “Oh, nothing. I was just thinking out loud.”

“Thinking about Titus Fisher, I’ll bet.” Darlene flipped her blond ponytail over her shoulder. Dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a pink T-shirt, she looked nothing like the plain Amish girl who’d gone to the one-room schoolhouse with Phoebe for eight years.

Phoebe glanced at her own pair of jeans. Mom and Dad had never approved when she’d worn English clothes. They rarely approved of anything she did.

Darlene nudged Phoebe’s ribs with her elbow. “Were you thinking about Titus or not?”

“Yes, and I still can’t believe he moved to Kentucky.”

“Maybe it’s for the best.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“If he’d stayed in Pennsylvania, you might have felt obligated to return home and join the church. This way, you’re free to stay in California if you want to.”

“I guess you’re right.” Phoebe yawned. “Sorry. I can hardly stay awake.”

“Well, go to sleep then. I’ll wake you when I’m ready to stop for the night.”

Phoebe closed her eyes and rested her head against the window. She was bound to feel better once they reached Los Angeles.

Pembroke, Kentucky

When Titus woke up the following morning after a restless night on a lumpy bed, he hurried to get dressed, then made his way to the kitchen. As he passed through the small living room, he stopped and surveyed his surroundings, wondering if he’d been out of his mind for agreeing to stay here. The paneling on the living room walls had been painted an odd shade of yellow; the upholstery on the old rocking chair and sofa was torn; and the only throw rug on the floor was frayed around the edges.

He moved on to the kitchen to check out that tiny room. The hinges on the cabinets were rusty; only one burner on the propane stove worked; the porcelain sink was full of rust stains; the curtains were faded; and several places in the linoleum had been torn, revealing the wooden floor beneath it. Titus had left all the windows open last night, in an effort to air the place out, but he could still smell some mustiness. Obviously nothing had been done to maintain this trailer in a good many years.

Titus opened each of the cupboard doors and groaned. Not a stick of food in the house, of course. Allen had offered to take him shopping last night, but he’d gotten an urgent call from one of his contractors and said he had to rush off. Titus had assured him that he could survive for a while on the snack food he’d brought from home and would get to a store on his own after work today.

Think I’d better eat that granola bar in my backpack, saddle Lightning, and head over to the woodshop
, Titus told himself.
It wouldn’t be good for me to be late on the first day—especially since I haven’t proven myself to Isaac Yoder yet
.

It was almost noon when Suzanne’s mother suggested that Suzanne take the sandwiches she’d made out to the woodshop for the men.

“Can’t you take them out?” Suzanne asked.

Mom’s forehead wrinkled. “You take the men’s lunch out to them nearly every day, so why not now?”

“I feel funny around Titus. I don’t think he likes me.”

“For goodness’ sake, Suzanne, he hasn’t had a chance to get to know you, so why would you think he doesn’t like you?”

“When he was here yesterday he looked at me in disgust, and then after that he would hardly look at me at all. Esther said it was probably because I had a dirt smudge on my nose, but I think it may have been something more.”

“He’s probably shy. Give him a chance to get to know you before making assumptions.” Mom handed Suzanne the lunch basket. “Now would you please take the men’s lunch out to them?”

“Are you sure you won’t do it?”

Mom shook her head. “I need to get some baking done, but if you’d rather do the baking, then I’d be happy to take the sandwiches out to the woodshop.”

“No way! If I did the baking, nobody would speak to me for the rest of the week because I’m sure I’d ruin whatever I tried to make.”

“If you spent more time in the kitchen, you might have learned how to bake by now.”

Suzanne didn’t say anything in her own defense. She’d had this discussion with Mom before, and apparently Mom didn’t realize just how impatient she could be when it came to working in her kitchen. Suzanne figured making excuses to stay out of the kitchen was easier than telling Mom the truth.

“I made enough sandwiches so Titus can have one, too,” Mom said. “Unless he went shopping last night, he may not have brought any lunch with him this morning, because I’m sure there was no food in that old trailer.”

Suzanne wrinkled her nose. “If there had been, it surely would have been spoiled by now.” Lunch basket in one hand, and a jug of lemonade in the other, she turned and hurried out the door.

When Suzanne entered the shop, she found Titus and Nelson sanding some cabinet doors while Grandpa sat at his desk writing something in the ledger.

“I brought your lunch,” Suzanne said, placing the wicker basket and lemonade on the desk beside him.

“Danki.”
Grandpa smiled up at her. “Did you bring enough for Titus, too?”

“Jah.” She cast a quick glance in Titus’s direction.

“I appreciate that,” Titus said, without looking at her. “I haven’t had a chance to buy groceries yet, so I didn’t bring a lunch with me today.”

Suzanne frowned.
He still won’t look at me. I wonder why?

“No need for you to ever bring your lunch to work,” Grandpa said. “I’m sure my daughter will be happy to provide your noon meals.” He motioned to Suzanne and smiled. “And my helpful granddaughter will bring it out to us whenever she’s home.”

“What’d you bring today?” Nelson asked, moving across the room toward Suzanne.

“Ham sandwiches, lemonade, and some peanut butter cookies,” she replied.

“Did you make the cookies, or did Mom?”

“Mom did.”

Nelson’s only response was a quick nod.

Suzanne was relieved that neither he nor Grandpa had said anything about her lack of cooking skills. It would be embarrassing to have that announced in front of someone she barely knew.