The Amish Bride of Ice Mountain (12 page)

Chapter Nineteen

A few days later, Mary discovered that Mrs. Bas and Betty had gone out shopping. She sought out Bas and asked his permission to use the kitchen since Sam was coming over that evening for raisin pie.

“My missus and Betty are a bit over-the-top with the kitchen,” Bas had confided. “Feel real bad about you having to cook the other evening. But if you want to bake something, by all means, go and do it now, Miss Mary.”

So Mary had hurriedly assembled the piecrust ingredients and was poised with the soured milk to add to the flour when Carol strolled into the room.

Mary decided to concentrate on the crust, though she nodded a greeting. Carol had been absent from the house for hours at a time for a few days before finally declaring that she would remain if Jude would allow it. And, of course, Mary thought, with the slightest trace of bitterness, he had.
Because he’s kind and gentle . . . would I want him any other way?

She paused in forking the damp flour, breaking from her thoughts, and realized that Carol had spoken to her. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

Carol shrugged a slim shoulder. “Nothing. I—I wondered what you were making, that’s all.”

“Raisin pie. Professor Sam is coming over tonight.”

“Sam? Sam Riley? That snot!” Carol popped a plumped raisin into her lips. “That man drives me up the wall.”

Mary frowned, puzzling out the turn of phrase, and Carol sighed.

“He bothers me.”

“
Ach
. . . I thought he was nice.”

“Ha! If you like brainy, blond egomaniacs who’d rather discuss the War of the Roses than have normal human conversation.”

Mary arched a brow at her in surprise. “You like him.”

“What?” Carol snapped. “I do not. Listen, honey, you might be able to tell me the truth about one or two things . . . and I might listen, but I do
not
like Sam Riley.”

Mary smiled in confusion. “But you were going to marry Jude?” It was a question, sincerely meant.

Carol gave her a dry look. “‘Were’ is the operative word there, honey . . . Anyway, I—I wanted to say thanks for what you said the other day—about a woman’s worth and jewels and all that.”

Mary stared at her. “It’s sort of from the Bible.”

“Oh,” Carol laughed. “Then that’s why I didn’t know it—not that I don’t go to church. But anyway . . . I’ll go.”

She turned on her high heel to start to walk away and Mary bit her lip for a moment.

“Carol, would you like to join us for pie tonight?”

Mary watched the other woman pause, then glance back at her over her shoulder. “How do you know I’m not trying to be nice to you to get Jude back?” Carol asked.

Mary shrugged. “Because you like . . .”

“Don’t say it. I’ll think about pie tonight. I do love raisins. Bye, honey.”

Mary once again pondered the strangeness of those around her and wished for the straightforward talk of home. But then she smiled to herself as she mixed the raisins and sugar; Carol liked Sam Riley!

 

 

They were assembled in the den, watching a movie on the big flat screen and eating pie, though Jude found his wife’s wide-eyed fascination with the large television to be sweeter diversion than the confection that melted in his mouth. And to his great surprise, Carol had joined them, apparently at Mary’s invitation.

He glanced at his ex-fiancée now as she sat, delicately forking up pie and ignoring Sam. Jude couldn’t quite understand the animosity between the two, but Mary seemed more than happy to make up for breaks in the conversation
. Women . . . they are beyond any study . . .

He looked up to see his father stroll into the room, pie plate in hand. Jude reached for the remote and paused the movie. He sensed the discomfiture in the room. Sam had never been well received by his father, and Mary was used to leaving whenever he was around
. But not tonight . . .

“Excellent pie, honey.”

Jude felt Mary’s glance and waited.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

“Yes, and I need it after a day like today. My vice president up and quit on me. Man couldn’t stand a little input now and then.”

I can imagine what kind of input
. . . Jude tilted his head. “I’m sorry, Dad. You should be able to get someone soon, though, right?”

His father snorted, clattering his empty plate and fork on a side table. “Like you care, Jude. No, the man I really want in that position is you. I think it’s a great opportunity.” His gaze raked Mary. “What with you choosing to start a family and all.”

Sam got to his feet with haste. “I, um, I’ll take my plate into the kitchen. Find something to drink and all that.”

“I’ll join you,” Carol announced with an audible sigh.

Jude stared after them as they left, finding their behavior nearly as provoking as his father’s.

Mary rustled a bit beside him. “Jude, do you want me to go?”

“No, please no. Dad, I’ve gone over this with you a million times. I’ve got a job that I love at the university and I’m finishing my book. I can’t work for you.”

His father stared at him, silent for a rare first time. “Right . . . right, you can’t.” He got to his feet suddenly. “Well, I’ll leave you two newlyweds alone. I have some business to attend to.”

Jude had an uneasy feeling but decided he was overreacting as he watched his dad leave without a fight.

“That was odd,” he said, smiling at Mary.

She shook her head, a touch of sadness on her face. “I wish it could be easier.”

He touched her hand. “Let’s forget it—we’ve got a moment to ourselves and we’re on a couch. Do you want to make out?”

“Make—out?” She turned puzzled, beautiful eyes on him and his smile widened.

“Yes, let me teach you the meaning of that particular
Englisch
expression . . .” He leaner closer to her and dipped his head with pleasure.

 

 

A full twenty minutes later, Mary raised her eyes and spoke in a hushed voice. “Where are Sam and Carol?”

Jude nuzzled the length of her neck. “Who cares,” he muttered.

“I bet they’re—making out too.”

“What?” Jude lifted his head and stared down at her. She smiled up into his handsome face and gazed at his reddened mouth.

“Carol likes Sam.”

Jude peered at her closely, having laid aside his glasses long before. “Sweetheart, have I kissed you delirious? They can’t stand each other.”

Mary giggled. “Let’s go find them and see.”

“You want me to give up kissing you to go sneaking around my own house? They probably left or something.”

“Please—
sei se gut
, Jude, for fun.”

He sighed and repositioned his glasses, then straightened her
kapp
. “All right, since you never usually mention fun as a diversion, I’ll agree. But we’re coming back to this couch once I prove you wrong.”

“All right.” She smiled.

He got up and pulled her to her feet, then bent to kiss her nose. “Onward, wife. Where should we look for them?”

“The kitchen. Sam said he was taking his plate back.”

“The kitchen it is.” He swept a hand before her. “Shall we?”

Mary caught his hand. “All right, but we have to be quiet.”

“As quiet as thieves,” he quipped and she squeezed his hand in response.

 

 

“What the . . .” Jude stared at the tangled couple leaning against the kitchen counter. Carol’s perfect hair was a mess and Sam looked flushed and giddy.

“I told you,” Mary said with a knowing smile. “They’re making out.”

Jude shook his head. “You know, in some cultures, getting caught like this is a reason to get married.” He gave his wife a deliberately wolfish smile and she blushed, much to his pleasure.

“Yes, well.” Sam cleared his throat. “I’d better be heading home . . . I’ve got some things to read and all that . . .”

“Oh, and I think I’ll run out to the stores for a bit,” Carol declared. “Honey, thank you for the pie.”

Jude watched them slink out of the kitchen like two high-schoolers and could only stare after them in confusion.

“I was right,” Mary declared.

“You were, but I have no idea how . . .”

“Even Amish women have intuition, but I do wonder why Carol would go shopping this late in the evening?”

Jude laughed out loud. “Mary, they’re going to . . . well, never mind. Some women shop late.”

He felt her thoughtful gaze. “You’re not telling me something,” she said.

“No,” he agreed. “I’m not, but it’s nothing worth knowing. Now, how about that couch?”

“I’ve got to wash the pie plates.”

He caught her close, loving the feel of her soft body curving against him. “I’ll wash the pie plates, sweetheart. You go wait on the couch.”

“Will we make out again?”

“Do you want to?” He knew there was an anxious note in his voice.

“
Jah
, very much.”

“Gut,”
he whispered, kissing her once and hard. “That’s good.”

He watched her leave the kitchen, his eyes on the slightly off-kilter apron band at her waist, then he went whistling to wash up the pie plates, contentment in his heart.

Chapter Twenty

Jude smiled at Dean Walters’s secretary, Joan, as he entered the office where he’d been requested. The gray-haired woman, a terror of undergraduates, usually smiled on him but today simply held out a candy jar filled with chocolates.

“Miss Joan? Your secret stash? What’s wrong?” he asked as he helped himself to a piece.

She eyed him and shook her head, her faded brown eyes sad. “Bad news, kid,” she whispered.

“What?” he asked, jokingly. “Am I fired?”

She extended the jar once more and he stared at her, then brushed past her to knock at the blurred glass of the inner office door.

“Come in.” Dean Walters’s voice sounded faint and Jude entered, sucking hard on the disappearing chocolate in his mouth. Another tall man whom he didn’t recognize stood behind the dean, looking impressive and serious.

“Jude, please sit down, but, uh, first . . . I’d like you to meet Mr. John Eliason . . . he’s the university’s vice president and chief financial officer. There are—some problems we need to discuss with you.”

Jude shook hands with the cold-eyed CFO, then sank into a leather chair, feeling as if his future was about to change forever.

 

 

“But really, Mrs. Bas, I want to do it.” Mary tried to keep the note of desperation out of her voice as she spoke with the older woman.

Mary had asked Mrs. Bas if she might have the privilege of cleaning both her and Jude’s rooms. The older woman had disagreed, but Mary explained that she needed to do something productive.

“You’re pretty, honey. That’s productive enough.”

Mary nodded her thanks. “I appreciate your words, Mrs. Bas, but, well, back home on Ice Mountain, I’d be cooking and cleaning for him. He’d be . . . mine . . . to take care of and look after.”

“Oh, I see.” Mrs. Bas gave over the dust rag and bottle of furniture polish with reluctance. “Well, if that’s it, and it’ll make you happy, go and dust your heart out, luv.”

Mary gave the housekeeper a brief hug, and Mrs. Bas sniffed.

“Go on with you, now.”

Mary darted away up the stairs with Bear at her heels, feeling that she’d been given a secret family recipe and was about to try it out. It would be so nice to be able to do something for Jude while he was out teaching.

She decided to clean his room first and entered to find the window open and sheets of his yellow notepad blown about the hardwood floor. The September air smelled sweet and a breeze had picked up, making the draperies dance.

She knelt to gather the notes happily, glad that she might help him organize a bit. She’d collected three yellow-lined sheets when her eyes fell on the neat handwriting of the fourth. She lifted the paper slowly, as if seeing herself in a dream, then began to read . . .

Mary dropped the sheet of paper and then the others. She could not read one more word. She pressed her hands to her mouth and rocked slowly back and forth as tears filled her eyes and fell down her cheeks. It was as though she had gotten a true look at herself from Jude’s heart and she realized that she would never be a true wife to him.

Then, resonant and clear, she calmed herself as an inner voice seemed to take over.
I must leave. Now. Before Jude comes home
. She got to her feet, resolute, and went to her room. She slipped off the flat shoes he had bought her and clambered into her old ones, and then she finished packing her satchel with the few things she had originally brought with her. She glanced around the room and her eyes fell on the Ice Mine snow globe. She picked it up with care. Then she went in search of the one person she knew would help her.

 

 

Jude watched Dean Walters shuffle the papers before him in an awkward way before he began to speak.

“Jude, uh, there’s been some difficulty with funding, and, um—” The older man broke off and shot an imploring glance at Jude, as if willing him to understand.

“For the book?” Jude asked
. If that’s the problem, I’ll put together everything I have of my own and . . .

“For the book, yes, and for your position.” The dean took out a handkerchief and swiped at his round forehead.

“My position? Why? What’s wrong? What have I done?” He directed his questions to the CFO.

Mr. Eliason stared at him as if he was a bug. “Funding, Professor Lyons. You do understand. The university has made a decision to cancel its Amish studies classes for next semester, so your position is null and void. And the university’s press is no longer interested in your book. We’re moving on to—bigger things.” The man gave Jude a brief smile. “So no antics, if you please. You’ll finish out the term teaching, of course, but then—well, it’s a big world.”

Jude looked at the face of Dean Walters, who appeared to have tears in his eyes, and slowly nodded. “All right . . . all right.”

He got to his feet and stared down at his mentor, then turned to go.

Mr. Eliason’s voice stopped him. “Oh, and Professor Lyons? Give my regards to your father.”

Jude pivoted, staring hard into the impassive face of the CFO; then he opened and closed the door.

He automatically took the chocolate Joan put in his hand
. Give my regards to your father . . .
He sucked hard on the candy, then swallowed. “Joan, was my father here sometime recently? Ted Lyons? Tall man, but stocky, always wears a suit and . . .”

The older woman shook her head and whispered, “Jude, I’m sorry. I can’t—I need this job.”

Dean Walters slipped from his office and leaned hard on the closed door. “Jude, you have to understand. I’m being forced to retire early—I wanted nothing to do with this. But a new undergraduate library . . . paid for down to the last book . . .” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Everything clicked in slow motion in Jude’s brain. He made himself go and shake hands with the dean, who looked instantly relieved. Then he took another chocolate and walked out. Walked away from the destruction his father had bought. Jude suddenly wanted nothing more than to see Mary and to rest a few moments in the true comfort of her arms . . .