The Imposter (13 page)

Jesse had made three bill collector calls in one morning, though only two were successful. He brought out the cash he'd been paid for Hank's buggy repairs and counted it again. He would've thought Hank would be more pleased about the money he was bringing in, but he didn't seem to care much about it. All he cared about was wooing Edith Fisher to the altar of matrimony.

If this were his money, he would make it work for him. Under the right conditions, he could double or triple it.

He made a quick detour into the drugstore. Ruthie asked—no,
ordered
—him to buy some bobby pins for the little sisters' hair, and he found it very aggravating to have to be in the women's beauty aisle, for all the world to see. He turned
a corner looking for hair products and thought he caught sight of his sister Katrina just as she was leaving the store. He strode down the aisle to go after her . . .

And stopped dead.

On the glass door of the drugstore, the clerk was taping up a prominent poster about Stoney Ridge Founder's Day next Saturday, including a BBQ hosted by the town mayor. Including a hundred-yard dash.

Maybe . . . the right conditions for Hank's money had just arrived.

Early one morning, Katrina had taken the buggy to town to pick up a few things at the drugstore that couldn't be found at her father's store: toothpaste, dental floss, and a few other ladies' unmentionables, which she would have felt mortified to purchase at her father's store.

She had wandered the aisles for a long time, intrigued. So many of the items she could make herself or live without, but still, she supposed, there was something about store-bought things that made them seem special. And it would be easy to hunger for them, if she let herself. Like those tortoiseshell combs and barrettes, or those dainty gold earrings for pierced ears. Imagine how she would be looked at if she wore earrings to church one day! A Plain woman wasn't supposed to covet such worldly things, but she did.

She had noticed a sale on peppermint tea and bought it, remembering it was Thelma's favorite flavor. Then, seeing the time on a wall clock, she hurried to pick up her last few purchases.

When she returned home, nearly noon, she made tea and
took a cup to Thelma as she knitted by the window in the living room. “You missed a visit from Freeman,” Thelma said. “He's showing more nephew-ly interest in me since Elmo's passing than he did his whole life.”

“Still trying to talk you into selling?”

“Yes. Two weeks ago, the developers raised their bid. Freeman tries to have little persuasive talks with me, but I keep telling him I still won't budge from here. He's getting more persistent and I'm getting more impatient with his stiff ways. Today, he said the church needed the proceeds from the sale of the hill and I needed to go live in the Big House with that tribe of his.”

“How did you respond to him?”

“I told him that my moss business was turning a tidy profit—”

A slight exaggeration.
But there had been an increase in orders this week.

“—and that I had two employees to consider. That gave him pause.” Her eyes smiled as she sipped her tea. “On a happier note, I saw your brother in church the other day.”

“Yes. Jesse's back from Ohio. He's apprenticing with Hank Lapp to learn about buggy repairs.”

Thelma froze, then swallowed her mouthful of tea. “Hank and Jesse? Now that's a curious combination.” She took another sip of tea. “I always thought Jesse was a boy whose eyes were fixed on the horizon. Elsewhere.”

Katrina looked up. “What makes you say that?”

“He seems to have an unsettled soul.”

Katrina pondered that generous description. Yes, her brother did have an unsettled soul. Frankly, that phrase would describe her, as well. Maybe it was a family trait. But then,
her father was a very settled soul. Her mother had been one too. “I'm going down to work in the greenhouse for a while.”

“I haven't seen much of Andy today. If you see him, would you mind asking him to stop by the house?”

Through the window, Katrina saw Andy drive a horse and wagon toward the barn. “There he is now. I'll go speak to him.”

She walked down the hill to Andy as he was unbuckling the horse's harness parts. Keeper spied her, wagging his tail at the sight of her, then galloped toward her. That dog, now he was a settled soul. He'd found the life he wanted.

The tops of the trees stirred with wind and Katrina shivered. Fall had arrived in full force.

He eyed her. “That color blue looks good on you.”

Katrina ran her fingers over the hem of her sleeve. “This is the oldest dress I own.”

“I don't care. It's still a good color.” He held her gaze steadily, and in the bright, clear afternoon sun, his eyes were as blue as the sky behind him.

“Thelma wants to talk to you this afternoon.”

“You look a little cold,” he said, removing his coat and draping it about her in a gentlemanly fashion. “Is everything all right with Thelma?”

“Yes. Other than she's annoyed with her nephew. He wants her to sell and move in with him.”

“Why does her nephew hold such sway?”

“He's the bishop.”

Andy lifted his head in a nod. The one word,
bishop
, carried weight. “Ah. And she doesn't want to?”

“Not at all. She wants to stay put. That's why she's excited to build up this moss business.”

Andy lifted a heavy auger onto his shoulder as easily as if
it were a bale of feathers and walked toward the barn in long strides. She followed behind him and leaned on the side of the open barn door, watching him set the auger against the wall. He straightened and turned to her, hands on his hips. “Would you like to take a walk tonight?” As he took a step closer to her, first one, then another, all thoughts flew from her mind, like swallows in the rafters.

Something about the direct way he met her eyes, and the slight, charming quirk of his mouth caused a stir at the base of her neck. Suddenly shy, she peeled his coat from her shoulders. “Thanks, but no. I just came down to tell you that Thelma wanted to talk to you this afternoon. That's the only reason I'm here.”

“Katrina, hold on.”

“I'd better go,” she said. “See you later.” And she left him, almost running.

Later that day, after visiting with Ephraim and Sadie, David was thoroughly spent. Sadie had agreed to Ephraim's request to be taken off the ventilator but she wanted to give time to allow their entire family—both sides—to travel to Stoney Ridge to say their goodbyes. That was only fair to her, but knowing Ephraim as he did, he was sure he didn't want to delay this any longer than was necessary. Ephraim had always been a bustling, energetic man, always in motion. Now, his body was wasting away in the ICU. It was a heart-wrenching time for all involved.

David slapped the reins on the horse's rump to get the mare to pick up her pace. He tried to be home each afternoon as
the girls returned from school, but he was running a little behind today.

After rubbing down his horse and giving her a few handfuls of oats, David gave his mare a parting pat, closed the stall door, and retreated from the shadows of the barn into the fall sunshine to stop short. He'd been so absorbed with Ephraim, as well as the disturbing murmurs of a possible church split, that he had never even noticed what a beautiful day it was today.

The temperature couldn't have been more than fifty degrees. The crisp air held a slight tang of burning leaves. Clouds above covered half of the sky like puffy balls of cotton. Later, he should bring the twins outside to see if they could pick out animals in those clouds. Last time, Lydie spotted an elephant plodding across the sky and Emily was sure she saw a buggy. He smiled. It just occurred to him how those images summed up his daughters perfectly—one so inventive, one so practical.

When he started from the barn to the house, he noticed Birdy Glick standing down by the mailbox, shielding her eyes as she tipped her head back. Each time he saw her, she seemed to have her eyes peeled upward. A timely reminder, he thought, after spending the afternoon in the hospital. Overhead, a gaggle of geese flew in V-formation, two black ribbons in the sky, heading south to Blue Lake Pond. He brushed dirt off his pants and walked down the hill to join her.

“Have you ever wondered why one side of the V is always longer than the other?” she said as he approached.

“I've never noticed.”

“I've noticed,” she said, “but I have no idea why.”

“I do know that the V-formation conserves energy for the geese, but I don't know the reason for that.”

“Oh, that I know,” Birdy said. “They face less wind resistance and receive a boost of air waves from those flying in front—almost like being in a wind tunnel. The farther back a goose is in formation, the less energy it needs in the flight. And an added bonus—it's easy to keep track of every bird in the group. It's a perfect metaphor for community, I've always thought.”

Without realizing it, Birdy had just given him the ideal illustration for why the church should remain together.
Thank you, God
.
He breathed it all in, deeply, and let it go, astonished.

When the geese had flown past, she dropped her hand and looked straight at him. “Is it true? You're not teaching baptism classes?”

“Did your brothers tell you?”

“No, I heard it from Gertie Zook. She seems to know everything in this town. My brothers don't reveal much to me about church business.” She looked from his eyes up to the house, then back again. “Did you want to stop teaching the classes? Or did they tell you to stop teaching?”

“Let's just say, I didn't agree to teach the way they wanted me to teach the classes.”

“Greatly abbreviated, is my guess.”

“To be honest, yes. I believe that young people should be taught the fullness of God's words, of church doctrine. Not to pick and choose them. Thomas Jefferson used to take a pair of scissors to Scripture, cutting out the parts he didn't like.”

“And you think that's what my brothers are doing.”

She didn't state it as a question but he took his time answering. “Birdy, it's no secret that there's tension between
your brothers and me. I don't want to put you in the middle of it.”

“You're not. I'm asking for the truth. Is that what you think my brothers are doing? Picking and choosing?”

He didn't answer.

“So do I. My brothers would never let God interfere with the running of the church.” Her harsh words surprised him, and his expression must have shown so. “Sorry to sound that way,” she met his eyes, “but it's the plain truth.” She heaved a breath. “David, don't let up on them.”

“I'm trying to hang in there, but they don't make it easy.”

Birdy, who to his knowledge did not have a mean bone in her body, patted his sleeve in approval. “Good for you.” She smiled and said in a conspiratorial voice, “Well, it seems to me that our young scholars might benefit from a few lessons about Bible memorization by the minister.”

David grinned, pleased, feeling cheered up. “Well, put that way, how can I refuse?”

Some days are all ups and downs. September was drawing to an end with nice, clear weather, but the wind was practicing for winter. Jesse was not a big fan of winter. Nor was he a fan of his sister's cooking. Molly, always the hungriest of the hungry, had volunteered to take over kitchen duties in Katrina's absence and make dinner each night. Tonight was spaghetti noodles, very underdone, tossed with ketchup rather than spaghetti sauce. It was sorely lacking in flavor, virtually inedible, but Jesse's father ate every bite and made sure he appeared to relish it, pleasing Molly to no end.

Whenever Jesse complained about Molly's cooking, his
dad would defend her attempts and say, “Every good cook begins somewhere. And this is Molly's somewhere.”

Thankfully, Jesse's noontime meals at Fern's made up for Molly's meals.

“How is school going?” his father asked Lydie.

“Birdy's terrible hard.”

“So are diamonds,” he said with a fond swipe at the hair perpetually clouding her eyes.