Plain Promise (20 page)

“Do you know this for sure?”

“Yeah, I guess I do. I haven’t confirmed it, but some things are starting to make sense now.”

Sadie was quiet for a moment, then said cautiously, “If this is true, I bet your friend is hurting.”

Kade didn’t answer.

“Sometimes when we see past our own pain and into the heart of another, our own self-healing begins.”

Kade looked up and turned toward her. “Can you see into my heart, Sadie?”

“I . . . I’m sorry if I offended you. I just—”

“You did not offend me at all, Sadie. I’m serious. Can you see into my heart? What do you see? I’d like to know.”

Sadie wasn’t comfortable talking to him about such things, but she should have thought about that long before the conversation became so intense. She recalled her own words—and wondered if she could see past her own pain and into Kade’s heart. She decided to try.

“I see a man who has been blessed with great wealth, but who is as unhappy a man as I’ve ever seen.” She paused to see him hanging on her every word. “But every now and then, I glimpse a different man, the man you long to be.”

Kade stared at her, as if in awe. He let out a heavy sigh. “You are exactly right.” Then he surprised her. “What about you, Sadie? I think you, too, have been blessed with great wealth, maybe not monetarily—but a wealth of spirit and faith. But you don’t fool me either. I see the sadness in your eyes as well. You do a much better job of masking it than I do, but it’s there.”

Sadie turned away from him, afraid he’d see her blinking back the tears. “You are exactly right,” she echoed. She turned to face him, and they sat staring into each other’s eyes.

Then Kade smiled. “If you could do anything in the world, what would it be?”

“What?” She couldn’t help but feel lighter suddenly.

“If you could do anything in the world, go anywhere, have anything, Amish or otherwise, what would it be?” Kade rested his elbow on the arm of the rocker and cupped his chin. “Anything.”

“You are serious, no?” What a wonderful question, she thought, and an easy one to answer.

Kade nodded. “And if money were of no concern.”

She smiled. “I would have a spouse to love and children to care for.”

“So, the old adage that money can’t buy happiness rings true for you?” His voice was kind, tender. “Of all the things in the world, you’d choose the love of family.”

“
Ya
.” She twisted in her chair to face him. “What would you choose?”

And much to her surprise, he said, “The exact same thing.”

“You are halfway there.” She nodded toward the precious child sleeping on the couch.

Kade rubbed his chin for a moment and stared at Tyler. “Yes,” he finally said. “You’re right.” Then he smiled. “I’ve never known anyone like you, Sadie.”

“Nor have I known anyone like you, Kade.” She returned the smile, and they sat silently again, but there was no mistaking the looks passing between them, and it sounded alarms for Sadie. “It’s getting late,” she said.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for us to stay this long.” He stood up and moved toward Tyler.

“Let the boy sleep,” Sadie said. “It’s too cold to take him outside, and it would be a shame to wake him up. I reckon you can come for him in the morning.”

“That would be great.” Kade peeked behind the closed blind toward the cottage. Gusty wind continued to mound snow up against the house. “I guess I’m going to miss Monica’s funeral.”

“I’m sorry. The worst of the weather will be here tomorrow and not start clearing until Saturday or Sunday, and I suspect we might not be able to travel for a day or two after that. My friends and I decided to close my shop until Wednesday.”

Kade continued to look out the window. “Wow. I’ve never seen anything like this. Look at the snow piling against the house.” He stepped aside, and Sadie took a brief look but quickly backed away. Kade let the blind go and turned to face her. “What time should I come for Tyler in the morning? I mean, I’ll come early. I don’t want you to have to feed him breakfast.” Kade grimaced. “Breakfast can be an ordeal with Tyler some mornings.”

Sadie couldn’t remember the last time she’d cooked a big meal for breakfast, with eggs, bacon, homemade biscuits, jams, and jellies. An excitement she hadn’t felt in a while rose to the surface. “Breakfast will be at seven o’clock. I will cook for you and Tyler.”

“Really?” Kade smiled. “I think that would be great.”

But then Sadie began to worry. “Although I . . . I don’t cook fancy, Kade. Like those items you have for breakfast. I can make eggs, bacon, biscuits, and—”

“Perfect!”

“Do you like such foods?” She questioned him with her eyes and wondered if he was just saying so.

He chuckled. “I honestly don’t remember the last time I had a traditional breakfast. I don’t cook, so those breakfast cereals are about all I can handle in the morning. I would absolutely love what you mentioned. It would be a treat.”

“All right.
Gut
.” She began to wonder what types of jams and jellies she had, whether she would prepare scrambled eggs and bacon or make omelets. This gave her something to look forward to in the morning. Company for the breakfast meal.

Kade pulled on his coat and gloves. “Then I guess I will see you in the morning,” he said.

It was an awkward moment. Even Sadie felt like a hug was in order, but neither moved forward. Instead, Kade turned to open the door. “Bye,” he said.

Sadie watched him trudge out into the storm, fighting the wind as his boots sank calf-deep in the snow. She didn’t remember ever seeing the weather this bad. Hard to believe that it would be even worse by morning

Kade couldn’t get into the cottage fast enough. He could barely feel his numbed cheeks. Plus, Val had a phone call coming. He flipped the switch on the thermostat in the kitchen, glad to have central heat in the cottage. Sadie’s home had been warm enough with the roaring fire and portable gas heaters, but Kade had let the fire die out since he was leaving town—or thought he was—and it was more than a little chilly.

He peeled off the heavy coat he’d borrowed the other night and hung it on the back of a kitchen chair. What a storm. He’d never seen anything like this, even in all his travels. Kade eased onto the couch and untied his tennis shoes, thankful the black boots had kept them dry. He propped his feet up on the coffee table and looked around the room. It was eerily quiet, but the wind howled with a vengeance outside. In the dark, he could hear icy branches snapping, and it sounded like something flew against the barn. How nice it would have been to curl up on the couch with Tyler in the coziness of the farmhouse. But mention of that would have certainly scared poor Sadie to death.

It was hard to believe that there were women like her around. Honest, decent, and with a goodness he didn’t remember seeing in a woman. Sadie was dedicated to living the life she spoke about, driven by her beliefs and a real understanding about a relationship with God. Strong in her faith—and beautiful. He shook his head. Why couldn’t he have found a woman like that, instead of the Monicas and Alicias of the world, who were only after his money? But he had to admit, his heart ached over Monica’s death. So young. And Tyler’s mother. If Kade was honest with himself, he’d have to admit that having Tyler full-time scared him. As much as he wanted to know his son, he also knew it would truly be a labor of love. And what if he failed at it? How would he know if he was a good father?

He pulled out his cell phone, prepared to tear into Val, but Sadie’s words kept sounding in his head: “Sometimes when we see past our own pain and into the heart of another, our own self-healing begins.”

Kade stared at the phone.

12

LIZZIE AWOKE IN THE WEE HOURS OF FRIDAY MORNING to the sound of Jonas’s voice.

“Lizzie, you all right?”

She rolled over in bed and fumbled for her glasses on the table next to her. Then she put on gold-rimmed spectacles and blinked her eyes until the bedside clock came into focus.
Three fifteen. What
in the world?
Her hip popped as she felt around the table for her flashlight—amid the bottles of pills, tissues, and a glass of water. When her hand landed around the base of her flashlight, she turned it on and found the walkie-talkie.

“I’m here, Jonas,” she said wearily. “Are you and Sarah Jane all right?”

It took a few moments before Jonas answered. “
Ya
. But I woke up worried. You oughta not be there by yourself, Irma Rose.”

Lizzie hung her head and sighed. Then pushed the Talk button. “It’s Lizzie, Jonas.”

“I know. And it be
baremlich
outside. Don’tcha be goin’ out there.”

She grinned.
Why would I be going outside in a blizzard at three in the
morning?
“I won’t, Jonas.”

“
Gut
. Huggy bear don’t wanna find you all froze up and buried in the snow.”

Lizzie laughed out loud, now wide-awake. She loved when Jonas referred to himself as huggy bear, a pet name he’d chosen for himself. “All right,
huggy bear
. I promise not to go outdoors.”

“I’ll be seeing ya, Lizzie.”

She smiled.
All right, my love.
Her finger was on the Talk button, but Jonas spoke again before she had a chance to push it. “Lizzie?”

“
Ya
?”

She waited for a while, but no response. “Jonas? You all right?” she finally asked.

“I sure am missin’ you.”

Lizzie touched her palm to her chest and closed her eyes.
Oh
my.
“I miss you, too, Jonas.”

“Good night, Lizzie.”

“Good night.”

She set the walkie-talkie back on the table but didn’t lie back down. She was fully awake now, and thoughts of Jonas swirled in her head. Lizzie fluffed her pillows behind her and sat up a little straighter. Her hip was aching a bit, and her bedroom was a mite cold, but inside she was warm and fuzzy. She dreamed of Jonas asking her to marry him someday. So many times, Lizzie had fought the urge to tell him how much she loved him, but Jonas was the type of man who needed to do things in his own time. And he’d loved Irma Rose so much. Lizzie knew it was hard for him to give his heart to another.

But tonight he said he misses me.
She knew that was a big step for Jonas. He teased her a lot and referred to himself as huggy bear more than she actually called him by the name, but he’d never said he missed her or anything to hint that he might be feeling what Lizzie was feeling

Sadie flipped the bacon in the skillet, checked on the biscuits in the oven, and then stirred the eggs. Tyler was eating a bowl of tapioca pudding at the kitchen table. She hoped Kade wouldn’t mind, but when Tyler woke up on the couch, he had been confused, and the tapioca pudding calmed him down. Sadie was up and cooking before Tyler awoke, but when he stumbled into the kitchen, Sadie could tell by the look on his face that he was not a happy little boy. And one thing Sadie knew to be true—tapioca pudding made Tyler happy.

She glanced over her shoulder at Kade’s son. A handsome fellow for sure. Sadie had placed several jars of jam on the table, and Tyler was busy arranging them in a circle between bites of pudding. She smiled. No harm done. She’d been careful to keep knives off the table, or anything else Tyler might be tempted to play with, since Sadie still wasn’t sure of his habits.

Sadie prepared some oatmeal, after deciding against scrapple. The mushy mix of cornmeal and flour wasn’t for everyone. She recalled when Lillian first arrived in Lancaster County, before she converted. When Lillian found out the traditional dish also contained leftover pieces of pig, she wouldn’t touch it—and
still
wouldn’t, to this day. “I’m not eating pig guts, toes, and ears,” Lillian had said firmly.

Sadie rather liked it. But then, she’d grown up eating it, like most of the people in her community.

“How is your pudding, Tyler? Is
gut
, no?” She wiped her hands on her apron and walked toward him, but he didn’t acknowledge the question. He continued to rearrange the jars of jam; then he’d take a bite of pudding, and then start all over again. But all the while, he was smiling. And Sadie was too. The smell of breakfast cooking, a guest for breakfast, a child in the house—it all felt so nice. She even found herself humming.