Plain Promise (6 page)

About fifteen square tables were scattered about the place, each with a red and white-checkered tablecloth and four chairs. Small, glass vases housed worn silk flowers in the middle of the tables, surrounded by salt, pepper, ketchup, and steak sauce. At least it wasn’t
just
a beer joint.

Only two of the tables had patrons. A long bar ran the length of the back wall, and it didn’t take Kade long to spot an Amish man sitting alone—his straw hat on and a frosty mug in his hand.

“There he is.” Sadie pointed. She sounded relieved and wasted no time moving toward him. Kade followed.

“Jonas!” Sadie snapped when she reached his side. “The entire community is looking for you.” Relief flooded over her, despite her disciplinarian tone. “We have a car with us. Let’s get you home. Thank the good Lord you are safe.” She threw her arms around him. He didn’t respond, and a chill ran up Sadie’s spine. Perhaps he was angry with her for coming.

“Jonas?” She waited for an acknowledgment. He took a drink of what appeared to be beer from a tall, glass mug. Then he turned toward her, stared, and looked past her to Kade.

“Who are you?” He cut his eyes in Kade’s direction.

“You saw him this morning, Jonas. His name is Kade Saunders.” Sadie stepped back and made room for Kade, who extended his hand to Jonas.

“Nice to meet you, Jonas. A lot of people will be glad you’re safe.”

Jonas firmly took hold of Kade’s hand, stared blankly at him, and then turned to Sadie. “And who are you?”

Sadie’s mouth dropped. “Jonas. It’s me. Sadie.”

Jonas let go of Kade’s hand and stared at her. “Sadie who?”

He was playing with her. He had to be. “Why Sadie Fisher, of course.” She smiled hesitantly. Jonas didn’t.

“Serve these folks a beer, wouldja, Hank?” Jonas said to the short
Englisch
man behind the bar.

“No.
Danki
,” Sadie quickly said to the bartender. She knew Jonas’s medications caused him to act out of character from time to time, but never anything like this. She glanced at the bartender, who was trying to get her attention with a wave of his hand.

“It’s only root beer,” the man mouthed in Sadie’s direction when Jonas wasn’t looking. Sadie nodded.

“Jonas, I don’t want a
beer
. We have to go.” She gently touched his arm. “Right now. Lillian and Sarah Jane are terribly worried, and—”

“I don’t know why they’d be worried. I told Irma Rose where I’d be.” Jonas took another drink from the glass.

What?

“Who’s Irma Rose?” Kade directed the question to Sadie, but it was Jonas who answered.

“Irma Rose is
mei fraa
. She don’t much care for me comin’ here, but she don’t make too big a stink about it.”

“Well, if his wife knows he’s here . . .” Kade said to Sadie in a whisper after Jonas turned and focused on the television behind the bar.

“His wife is dead,” Sadie mouthed and stared at him.

“Oh, I see . . .”

She faced Jonas. “Jonas, Irma Rose isn’t here—”

But Kade interrupted her by waving his hand in front of her again. “Jonas, what’s Irma Rose cooking you for supper?”

Huh?
Sadie glared at Kade. What was he doing?

Jonas turned to Kade and smiled. “A mighty fine meal it will be. Irma Rose is a
gut
cook. I reckon she’ll have me a pot roast when I get home.”

“Pot roast, huh?” Kade stepped closer, edging Sadie back a bit. “Nothing like a pot roast. Does she put potatoes and carrots all around it and let it cook all day? That’s how my mom used to do it.”

Sadie stood quietly.

“Your
mamm
sounds like a
gut
woman. That’s exactly the way my Irma Rose does it. Makes for a fine meal indeed.”

“Isn’t it after the supper hour? I bet Irma Rose has that pot roast ready and is keeping it warm for you.” Kade touched Jonas’s arm, a gesture Sadie found endearing, considering the way Jonas had treated Kade earlier.

Jonas was focused on the television. A commercial. “Why would anyone cook food from a box?”

Kade kept talking. “I agree. Never as good as a home-cooked meal. I haven’t had pot roast in a really long time.”

Jonas turned his way. “Irma Rose always makes plenty enough. You wanna have yourself some pot roast tonight?”

“I’d love to.” Kade smiled. “And I’m starving. Why don’t we head that way?”

It’s working
. Sadie played along. “I’m hungry, too, Jonas. Can we go now?”

Jonas pushed a five-dollar bill toward the man behind the bar. “Hank, I can’t let these two young people starve, so I reckon I’m heading to the
haus
.”

“Okay, Jonas. You take care now.” Hank winked at Sadie. “You folks be careful.”

Once Sadie had buckled Jonas safely in the front seat of the car, she prepared to close the door. “I will see you at the
haus
.” “What?” Kade eyed her like she was a crazy woman.

“I have to take the buggy home.” Did the
Englischer
think she’d leave Jessie and the buggy here?

“It’s freezing out here. You can’t drive that buggy home!”

“The boy is right, Lilly. Too cold for you. I’ll drive the buggy home.” Jonas unbuckled his seat belt, and Sadie ignored the fact he called her Lilly, his nickname for his granddaughter.

“Jonas, you stay put.” Sadie slammed the door and began making her way to the buggy. Kade was quickly out of the car and walking her way.

“Just go back to the car and get Jonas home.” She shook her head. “I’ve never seen him like this.”

“I can’t let you drive the buggy in this weather.” Kade put his hand on his hip. “That’s insane.”

Sadie laughed. “
Ach,
I suppose you will drive it?” She paused, lifted her chin. “And I will drive your fancy car. It can’t be that hard.”

“Have you ever driven a car?”

“Have you ever driven a buggy?”

The car door opened, and Jonas stepped out.

“Go get him back into the car and take him home!” Sadie stomped her foot. “Please. It’s not like I’ve never driven a buggy in the snow. Now, go!”

Kade drove slowly behind the buggy. He kept a safe distance while he watched Sadie maneuvering the buggy like she must have done her entire life. But it seemed wrong for him to be in the warmth of his car while she fought the elements.
She can be a
little spitfire when she puts her mind to it.

“You courtin’ her?” Jonas asked after an awkward silence.

“What?”

“That woman. You courtin’ her?” Jonas tucked his thumbs beneath his suspenders and turned toward Kade.

Not sure if Jonas knew who
that woman
was, Kade said, “No. We’re just friends.”

They were hardly friends. He barely knew her.

“Sadie is a special gal. I wasn’t sure the poor girl was gonna survive after her husband died.”

Kade was glad to see Jonas knew who Sadie was, and the old man had sparked his interest. “When did her husband die?”

“Several years ago.” Jonas sighed. “I weren’t sure we’d ever get her back to normal again. The girl had a hard time of it. But she’s done a fine job tendin’ to her farm.”

“It’s a lot to take care of for one woman.”

“She has lots of help from the community. Just until she marries her friend from Texas.” He paused and drew his mouth into a frown. “If that ever happens.”

“Oh, she’s engaged?”

“If you wanna call it that.” Jonas shriveled up his nose. “How can you be writing letters to a fella for two years? Seems to me he’d have already made it a point to travel here. But I don’t mention that to her.”

“They’ve never met?”
Wow
. Two years was a long time to be corresponding.

“Who’s never met?”

Kade assumed he was losing Jonas. “Sadie and the man from Texas.”

“Oh. No. They’ve not met. He better be
gut
to that Sadie if they get a notion to marry. She is special. A
gut
friend to
mei
granddaughter too.”

They sat quietly as they neared Jonas’s house. Kade couldn’t imagine how cold Sadie must be. He felt like a heel. But she was right. He didn’t know how to drive a buggy, and she didn’t know how to drive a car.

“Bet that pot roast is gonna be mighty
gut.
Hope Irma Rose doesn’t fuss because I’m late.” Jonas shook his head.

Kade just smiled. He was thankful this night had a happy ending.

His cell phone rang when he pulled into the driveway at Jonas’s farm. He picked it up from the console and was surprised to see that it was Val. He glanced at Jonas, who was staring straight ahead, and flipped the phone open.

“Well, hello, stranger.”

“Hey, partner,” Val said. “I’ve got some news you’re not going to like.”

Straight to the point.
“That’s never a good thing to hear.” Kade braced himself. “What?”

“Monica’s on her way there.”

“What? How does she know where I am?”

“I haven’t a clue, Kade. I didn’t tell her. I wouldn’t do that. I know you need this time to regroup.”

“Do you know when she’s going to be here?” Kade’s chest tightened.

“Any day. That’s what I heard via the grapevine from the women at the country club.”

“She called recently, but I didn’t answer the phone. I didn’t want to deal with her. But she didn’t leave a message. I cannot believe she is coming here all the way from North Carolina. That’s insane.”

At least the old man was okay, he thought, putting the car in park. “I’ll be there in a minute,” he whispered to Jonas, who nodded.

“Kade . . .”

“Yeah?” The way Val said his name indicated there was more. “What else?”

“She’s not coming alone.”

4

ON THE DRIVE BACK, SADIE SOAKED UP THE JAZZY music filling the inside of Kade’s car. She’d already thanked him for what he’d done, but he had waved her off with that bothersome gesture that irritated her more with each shushing movement. Didn’t he realize how rude that was?

She breathed in the aroma of leather coming from the black seats in the car, commingled with a hint of Kade’s cologne. More gadgets than she’d ever seen lined the console, and he seemed to be controlling the selection and volume of music from his steering wheel. The small confines of Kade’s automobile gave her a glimpse into the luxurious way he lived. It all seemed very unnecessary. Did the
Englisch
really need all this to be happy? Kade seemed to need more than most.

She’d be glad to get home. The snow hadn’t let up, but Kade seemed to have better control of his automobile as he steered onto Black Horse Road.

“What kind of music do you enjoy?” he asked when the silence grew awkward. “I hope this is okay. It’s Dmitri Shostakovich.”

Sadie turned toward him. “I mostly listen to country gospel when I have a chance.” She paused and looked straight ahead.

“We can’t own radios, but we listen to music when we get rides with
Englischers
, and sometimes we attend local festivals when there is a gospel concert—if it’s a
free
concert in the park. The bishop doesn’t like for us to buy tickets for such events.” She glanced back toward him. “But I’m enjoying this music very much.”

He smiled. “Do you sing or play any instruments?”

“
Ya
, I love to sing. When I was younger, I attended many Sunday singings. We sing in church, too, but only in High German.” She sighed. “We are not allowed to own any instruments, though.”

The car seemed to slow down. “What? Really? But why?”

“Owning an instrument would bring forth heightened emotions. It’s not necessary to our way of life.” She hoped that would end the conversation so she could enjoy the music.

“I don’t understand. Singing brings forth emotion too. How can you be allowed to sing but not own an instrument?”

It was a valid point and one she didn’t really know how to answer. She’d asked herself the same thing ever since she had first been introduced to instruments during her running-around period. Truth be known, most of the community couldn’t remember why instruments weren’t allowed. Like much of the
Ordnung
, rules to live by had been handed down from generation to generation, some with little explanation, but followed just the same. She took what she thought would be an easy way out. “We live by the
Ordnung
, which is our order of conduct, and owning instruments is not allowed.”