Promise Lodge (18 page)

After everyone sat down to supper and prayed, Preacher Amos smiled at Mattie. “We got lumber today, and your produce stand will be built by the end of the week,” he assured her. “Noah's going to make you a sign that'll hold slats, each of them with the name of a vegetable that's for sale on any given day.”

“So we can change out the slats as the season moves from the early salad greens into tomatoes, sweet corn, and melons,” Noah's mother said as she smiled at Phoebe and Laura. “Now that the gardens are growing so well and the stand's going to be built, I'm getting excited! One of our dreams is about to come true!”

The platter of hamburger patties smothered in fried onions made a second round, along with the bowls of macaroni salad, fruit gelatin, and green beans, but Deborah was still picking at her first serving. Across the table, Noah seemed determined not to make eye contact with her.

What did his change in attitude mean? He'd seemed so talkative—so protective—after he'd returned from town to find that Isaac and Kerry had come after her, yet now he was stewing in the same moody silence she'd witnessed when she'd first arrived at Promise Lodge. Deborah had admired Noah for taking action—for trundling Isaac out to the van while Amos and the others had continued bickering with the bishop.

But after that he'd gone sour. What had happened while he and Roman were carrying Isaac to Dick's van?

Most likely, you'll have to pry the story out of him
. Deborah didn't have the energy for that this evening. And she didn't want to bother anyone else with her concerns—not when they were enjoying Christine's fresh apple pie, served with scoops of the ice cream Amos had surprised them with.

“You're awfully quiet, Deborah,” Phoebe remarked as they began scraping the plates. The men had gone outside to tend the livestock, so the women had begun talking about tomorrow's meals and the work they needed to do in the garden and around the house.

Deborah shrugged. “I'm just wrung out from our uninvited guests,” she said, hoping she sounded convincing. “Everything happened so fast, once Isaac and Kerry came into the cabin. I've had about all the drama I can handle for a while.”

“We did have our share of excitement,” Christine replied as she carried dirty dishes over to the sink. “But wasn't it wonderful, the way we all came together and handled our emergency without any assistance from the men? I don't feel nearly so helpless now, like I did after Willis died and left the girls and me to fend for ourselves.”

“Glad to hear it, Sister,” Mattie chimed in. “If nothing else, we've learned a lesson today. Until Isaac's been taken down a peg or two—caught by somebody who can make him behave responsibly—we need to watch out for each other. Especially now that he's got a car.”

Deborah made an effort to chat, but when she turned in for the night, her concerns returned. Rosetta had suggested that she should start sleeping in one of the rooms in the lodge, but Deborah didn't want the others hovering over her, feeling sorry for her. Everyone had agreed that Queenie should sleep in the cabin with her, and Deborah felt safer with Noah's alert dog for company.

“But what if those boys come back?” she murmured as she gazed into the Border Collie's bright eyes. Deborah sat on the side of her bed, stroking the dog's soft face. “I know you'll bark if they show up, Queenie, but . . . it'll be my fault if they hurt you or ruin things around here to get back at
me
. That's not fair to these folks, after they've so generously taken me in.”

Queenie nuzzled her hand and whimpered sympathetically. Then she curled up on the rag rug, her sigh suggesting that it was time to get some sleep.

Deborah extinguished the lamp and settled into bed. The night songs of crickets and frogs suggested that all was as it should be, that peace had returned to Promise Lodge.

Hearing is one thing, but believing is another,
she thought as she tried to find a comfortable position. It took her a long time to fall asleep.

Chapter Sixteen

“I thought you and Noah worked everything out while you were fishing the other night,” Rosetta remarked as she shook out a wet magenta dress. “But at breakfast you both looked like you'd been chewing on lemons again.”

Deborah smiled in spite of how low she felt. She was helping Rosetta with the laundry while the other women were weeding the gardens. The steady
whack-whack-whack
of hammers out by the road announced the men's progress on the produce stand. “Who can tell what's on Noah's mind?” she murmured as she took a wet green shirt from the laundry basket. “I've given up trying to figure him out.”

“Oh, don't throw in the towel!” Rosetta arranged the dress on a plastic hanger so the polyester-blend fabric would dry without wrinkling. Then she hung it on the short clothesline that spanned the end of the porch. “You two are meant for each other—truly—if only you'd keep talking instead of turning your backs when you get miffed about every little thing.”

Deborah's eyebrows rose. The main clothesline Amos had rigged up for them extended between the end of the porch and the roof of the chicken house. She cranked its big pulley to send a row of shirts out of her way and bring a clear stretch of line within reach. As she hung the green shirt with wooden clothespins, she considered what Rosetta had said. “Is this the voice of experience I'm hearing? I never knew you to get crossways with anybody, let alone a man.”

“That's because you're too young to recall my dating days, before I decided my purpose in life was to look after the folks,” Rosetta replied pertly. “Before I got engaged to Tim, I had my eye on Denny Coblentz, and I dated Paul Lapp for a long while, too. But other girls caught their attention, and after Tim died and Mamm got hurt in a buggy accident, I knew where my time and efforts would be better spent.”

Deborah took the opportunity to steer the conversation away from herself. She shook out a blue shirt until it snapped. “Were you ever sorry you didn't marry? I mean, not to be nosy or anything—”

“Once I realized that God was showing me the way He wanted me to go, I didn't second-guess Him.” Rosetta smoothed a cape over another hanger and hung it beside the dress it matched, smiling as though she had a secret. “That doesn't mean I didn't
look
at men,” she clarified. “But it all worked out the way it was supposed to. Now I've got a nice new life here—a dream of providing apartments for other unattached women—and the fellows I once fancied are married with families now.”

“Not Truman Wickey.”

Rosetta's laughter echoed under the porch roof. “
Jah,
he's a nice guy and he's
gut
-looking, for sure. But I don't see him changing from his Mennonite faith any more than I intend to leave the Old Order,” she said with a shrug. “We can be friends, though—just like you and Noah can be friends even if you're not courting again.
Yet
.”

Deborah sighed. She should've guessed Rosetta wouldn't let her off the hook so easily. “I don't know what sort of bee's gotten under Noah's bonnet. But I'm thinking that, for the
gut
of everyone concerned, I should go stay with my cousins in Eulah. I'd thought about going there when Dat put me out, but—”

“And what brought
that
on?” Rosetta demanded. The wet dress she'd picked up puckered in her grip. “We're all
so
glad you're here, Deborah. And it's not only because Noah needs to be near you so he'll come to his senses.”

“But what if Isaac and Kerry come back?” Deborah protested. “What if they sneak in to set the barn afire, or—or they drive their car through the produce plots? Just to get back at
me
?”

“Is
that
what you've been stewing over? ‘The Lord is my light and my salvation! Whom then shall I fear?'” Rosetta shook the green dress again and hung it on a hanger. “The way Kerry tucked his tail and ran, I doubt we'll be seeing him again—especially because he took off in Isaac's car. And the bishop's boy didn't fare so well, either, did he?”

Recalling how Isaac had squirmed, bound in curtain fabric with paint and egg on his face, made Deborah smile. “But it's not fair to the rest of you that their kind of trouble has followed me here. I—”

“You're forgetting that Kerry lives in Eulah,
jah?
” Rosetta quizzed her. “And how long do you figure to keep moving from place to place? You know what they say—you can run but you can't hide.”

Deborah sighed and reached for another wet shirt. Once Rosetta became convinced of something, there was no changing her mind.

“And mark my words,” Rosetta continued with a shake of her head. “Somebody
will
catch up to Isaac. How can Obadiah deny his son was up to no
gut,
after having to come all the way out here to fetch him—and after we figured out that Isaac was the one who wrote that letter, imitating his
mamm
's handwriting?”

Deborah picked up more clothespins. “I just thought—”

“Well, think on
this!
” Rosetta slung her arm around Deborah's shoulders, gesturing toward the vast expanse of yard and plowed plots and buildings. “Look at this glorious garden the Lord's brought us to! Surely God is in this place, and He's led you here to be with us—to be Noah's wife, I believe.”

Deborah's breath caught as Rosetta held her gaze with eyes as dark and sweet as molasses. Joy shone on her attractive face. Conviction rang in her voice.

“Adam and Eve went running from the Garden, but we don't have to, Deborah,” Rosetta continued earnestly. “
We've done nothing wrong.
Not you, not any of us—at least where Obadiah and his son are concerned. Will you please believe that for me?”

The clothes on the line rippled in the breeze. The sky, dotted with puffy white clouds, was as blue as a morning glory and the lush foliage did resemble a garden, even if some of the underbrush and weeds needed cutting. Out in the center of Rainbow Lake, a fish jumped up and splashed down.

“It
is
beautiful here,” Deborah agreed. “And I really like being with you and your sisters and the girls.”

“So if Noah's stewing, let him! You're a young woman of faith, Deborah,” Rosetta insisted, “and you don't have to be laid low by any man's attitude. Sometime I hope you'll adjust that boy's attitude once and for all, but for now, what's your plan for happiness? Let's work it out while we finish with this laundry.”

There it was again, Rosetta's refusal to be sucked into a bad mood. Deborah smiled, because the woman who gripped her by both shoulders wouldn't ease up until they'd concocted a course of action.

“What if we made a cake roll with what's left of the ice cream?” Deborah ventured.

Rosetta's face lit up. “We'll all enjoy that! What else?”

When she noticed another ripple on the water's surface, Deborah felt herself grinning. “What if we took a picnic supper to the lake? And after we eat, we can have a fishing contest?”

“Now you're talking!” Rosetta crowed. “I love to fish but I haven't had the chance to wet a line since I got to Promise. We can add tonight's catch to what you and Noah brought in the other night and have enough for a fish fry this weekend.”

Deborah realized she was grinning back at Rosetta then, happy to have a plan—an evening to anticipate instead of a day to dread because she and Noah weren't seeing eye to eye.

“Shoo, now. I'll hang the rest of these clothes,” Rosetta insisted. “Go ask the fellows to get the fishing gear ready—and the worms dug—for this evening.” She chuckled then, taking the clothespins from Deborah's hands. “No need to tell them, of course, that we girls will catch more fish than they will.”

* * *

When Queenie woofed and ran toward the lodge, Noah glanced up in time to catch a grin flickering on Deborah's face as she strode down the lane. She was carrying a plate and a picnic jug—a welcome sight, considering that he and Amos and Roman had spent the morning building the produce stand out in the hot sun. But her expression told him she was up to something. And with the preacher and his brother here, Noah would have no chance to ignore Deborah if she spoke to him—or asked what was bothering him. There was no getting around it: women picked at scabs.

If Deborah doesn't tell you to get over your mood, Amos will,
he reminded himself.
Be nice, even though you wonder if there's any truth to what Isaac said. . . .

“Deborah! You're a sight for sore eyes and parched tongues,” Preacher Amos exclaimed. He rose from the ground, where they'd been bolting the front panel of the produce stand to its sides, reinforcing the corners. “What do you think of our little shack?”

Deborah's green eyes lit up as she looked at the structure, setting her plate, the jug, and some plastic glasses on the wooden countertop. “Looks big enough to hold quite a lot of produce,” she remarked. “And I like the way the roof slants down over the front to keep the sun and rain out.”

“It'll get plenty warm out here by midsummer,” Roman remarked as he helped himself to a brownie. “Once the word gets around, though, I think Mamm and the girls will run a brisk business.”

“Because of all the trees here, they'll be in the shade a lot of the time,” Amos pointed out as he unscrewed the lid of the jug. “We've put hooks up in the ceiling to hang a couple of fans, too. I'm going to install solar panels on the roof to run those, as well as a small fridge for keeping the eggs and the more perishable produce cool.”

“And we're building a couple of rolling racks for the melons and squash and whatever else the girls might want to display closer to the road,” Roman said. “When they close up for the day, the racks will fit inside the stand.”

Noah let the others talk as he filled a glass with cold water and drank it down. He tried not to look too obvious about watching Deborah as she went inside the little building. It was built in a U shape, and they had already installed sturdy wooden shelves and pull-out bins around its three sides. She was nodding as she checked out these features.

“Maybe I could bake bread and goodies and sell them out here, too,” she murmured. “It would be a way to earn my keep.”

Noah felt a pang, not only because Deborah thought she needed to make money but because it sounded like she intended to stick around for a while. Everyone else would think that was a fine idea—

Noah cupped his hand and poured water into it so Queenie could lap it up. He couldn't miss the hint of mischief in Deborah's grin when she looked up at them again.

“I came out to ask you fellows to get the rods ready—and the worms dug—for a fishing contest this evening,” she announced. “Rosetta and I thought that would be something fun to do after we have a picnic by the lake.”

“What's the prize for catching the most fish?” Roman teased as he grabbed another brownie.

“Hmm . . . maybe you fellows can come up with ideas—especially since we girls figure to win,” Deborah replied pertly. “And meanwhile, Noah, you'd better tell me what's chewing on you before our picnic. I won't spend the evening being ignored.”

With that, she flashed him a grin and took off toward the lodge.

“There you have it,” Amos said with a laugh. He glanced at Noah as he reached for a lemon-frosted molasses cookie. “I thought you two were all cozy again.”

“
Jah,
they were—until Isaac made some crass comments about what he and Deborah did together on the night of the fire,” Roman remarked. “All his talk was horse hockey, if you ask me.”

“Well, I
didn't,
” Noah retorted before he could stop himself. Didn't his brother realize what vivid mental pictures Isaac's descriptions had planted in his mind?

The preacher's eyebrows rose. “Do you have any reason to believe what Isaac said about her, Noah? Far as I could tell, he and his
dat
were both bearing a lot of false witness yesterday, and not owning up to what Isaac's been doing.”

Noah could not—would not—admit that Isaac's words had made him painfully aware of what he'd longed to share with Deborah . . . long kisses and the kind of intimacy he'd looked forward to as her husband. He'd known friends who'd succumbed to sexual temptations before they married, but Noah had kept his desires to himself. It was a matter of honor and respect for Deborah and for their faith. He shook his head, knowing Amos wouldn't accept that as an answer to his question.

“Deborah's a beautiful, capable young woman,” Amos continued matter-of-factly. “And if you love her, Noah, marriage would cure what's ailing you—and it would protect her from Isaac, as well,” he pointed out. “As long as she's at loose ends, any fellow can cast a line. Somebody else's bait might start looking pretty
gut
if you're always pouting.”

Noah's eyes widened. But he didn't challenge the preacher's insinuation that he'd been behaving like a kid—or that he'd wanted Deborah in a physical way. “I guess I've never considered the protection angle,” he admitted.

“If you love her, you'd better tell her, son. Before somebody else does.” Amos took up his screwdriver again, crouching to finish the produce stand's corner.