The Keeper (17 page)

She drove into town and parked at the department store, looked carefully to make sure she didn’t recognize anyone, made her purchase, and hurried home. She ran to the bathroom and squeezed into the body shaper. It definitely made her belly flatter. Her bottom too. But it wasn’t easy to move around or to sit down. She felt as if she had a yardstick down her back. She blew out a puff of air. This was a small price to pay for a flat belly.

As the afternoon carried on, Sadie felt as if her middle section was in a vise, getting tighter and tighter. She had a hard time getting full breaths of air. And it was itchy. She kept scratching herself and it sounded like a cat scratching a brick wall. She couldn’t think, couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. She was a sardine in a can! A stuffed sausage! She hated this girdle. Hated, hated, hated it. Finally, right before dinner, she couldn’t stand it for another second. She ran upstairs, took off the body shaper, and threw it out the window as far as she could, furious with herself for wasting money.

But ahhh . . . relief! She felt free!

By the time she got back downstairs, everyone was seated at the table. Rome walked in the back door, holding up the girdle. “Does this belong to anyone? I was minding my own business and this came flying at me, out of the sky.”

“That’s Sadie’s new corset,” Menno volunteered. “Mary Kate told me about it.”

Sadie gasped, mortified, ran upstairs, and threw herself on her bed. She would never eat again.

Why did every encounter with Roman Troyer seem to turn her into an idiot? What must he think of her? Just last night, she was peeling a carrot for the dinner salad when Rome came in to ask her father a question or two. While he was there, just a few feet away from her, talking to Amos, Sadie dropped the carrot peeler for the third time. Rome bent down and picked it up, handed it to her, then nodded toward the carrots she’d just peeled. “Are you expecting a family of rabbits as dinner guests?”

He was standing so close to her that she could smell his shampoo and see dark hairs glinting on his forearms, above the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt. She blinked and looked to see what he was talking about. Instead of peeling just a few carrots for a salad, she’d peeled the entire pile that Julia had brought in from the garden. A small mountain of carrot peels. Enough for a dozen salads. Idiot!

After a while, Fern had come into her room and sat on the bed, patiently waiting while Sadie had finished her weeping. Then, she said quietly, “Sadie girl. We have got to find something for you to do. You need more on your mind.”

M.K. and Jimmy Fisher met on the way home from school, not entirely by chance.

Jimmy blocked her path. “You told! You told Old gnudle Woola that I egged his buggy windshield!”

“You did egg his buggy! I heard you bragging about it to Noah.”

He scowled at her. “Now I have to wash every window in that crummy old farmhouse. Plus the buggy!”

“Too bad for you.” She tried to get around him, but he kept blocking her.

“You’d better watch your step, Little Gullie. I’m going to get even with you.”

M.K. stared at Jimmy. Then something came over her and she stomped on his foot so hard that he let out a big “OUCH!” and doubled over to grab his foot. M.K. took off as fast as she could, just in case Jimmy had recovered.

Before crossing the small stream that separated the road from the Smuckers’ wheat field, she glanced behind her and didn’t see any sign of Jimmy. She bent forward as she scrambled up the steep embankment and headed toward the woods that lay just past the field, another useful shortcut to get to Windmill Farm. She stopped for a moment behind a tree, resting her hands on her knees to catch her breath. It was supposed to be a sin to hate, M.K. knew, but she had trouble not hating Jimmy Fisher. It was probably also a sin to allow her mind to dwell on such thoughts, but M.K. often wondered why God chose to afflict Stoney Ridge with such a vile boy as Jimmy Fisher.

The bushes crackled behind her. Ears straining, she stared hard at the tangled thicket of blackberry bushes.

A breeze came up, stirring the leaves on the bushes and trees above her, rustling, whispering, crackling . . . it sounded like a creature. A bear creature!

She let out a shaky breath. It was only the wind.

But she sure didn’t want to meet up with any she-bear and her cub. She wasn’t afraid of many things, but so much talk of bears lately gave her the willies. She liked it better when she knew the bears were snoozing away the winter. She ambled on down the trail, relaxing a little. A squirrel scampered ahead of her, disappearing into the trees, tail twitching.

As she neared the edge of the wood, the bushes rustled again. M.K. looked up at the treetops, but this time there wasn’t any wind. Could it be Jimmy, playing tricks on her? She wouldn’t put it past him, especially as she was about to walk past a small graveyard, tucked in the corner of Beacon Hollow, the Zooks’ farm, with gravestones jutting crookedly out of the ground like buckteeth. Is this what Jimmy meant by getting even with her? Out of habit, M.K. hurried past the scary graveyard with just a quick glance. She had to dash through a cornfield to reach Windmill Farm. She tensed as the crackling, rustling noises came again, followed by a low growling sound. Every small sin she’d ever committed in her life passed before her. She broke into a run and made it home in record time.

That night, M.K. slept with three lamps in her bedroom.

10

I
t was late May. Off-Sundays in spring were some of Julia’s favorite days of the year. The weather was usually perfect, like it was today, and neighbors often gathered in a nearby meadow to enjoy fishing in the stream, a softball or volleyball game, and a picnic. On this sunny afternoon, Julia drove Menno, Sadie, and M.K. over to the field and decided to stay when she spotted Paul’s mare and buggy. She hadn’t had any chance to see him in the last few weeks and hoped he might slip off on a walk with her, like they usually did on lazy afternoons, while the others were involved in a game of softball.

Menno and M.K. hopped out of the buggy to join the game, already in progress, and Julia watched for a moment as she tied the horse to the railing. Ever since her father had taken sick, Julia had a hard time watching these games. Amos Lapp was one of the few men who put himself in the game. He’d ask a little one for some help at bat, then together they’d hit the ball and Amos would swing the child into the crook of his arm, bobbing and weaving around the bases. If he were running the bases alone, he’d always let himself get tagged out. But with his heart ailing, the doctor wouldn’t even let him attend church anymore. No crowds, the doctor said. Too high a risk of infection. Julia wasn’t sure what crushed her father’s spirit more—missing church or missing those softball games. Both, probably.

Out of the corner of her eye, Julia noticed Rome. She didn’t know he would be here. He hadn’t asked for a ride. Why was he here? She saw him walk up to a picnic table where a young woman, Katie Yoder, was scooping homemade ice cream into cones. Katie laughed at something Rome said, and he gave her an answering smile so charged with effortless charm that Julia could almost see Katie fall in love. Infuriating! Exasperating. It was like watching a predator swoop down on its prey. Why were girls so blinded by charm and good looks?

But then she saw Paul. He was on the other side of the softball field. Julia started to make her way in his direction, moving casually and nonchalantly, as Menno took a turn at bat. She stopped to watch, then cheer when he hit the ball past the outfielders. Unfortunately, he got so excited that he started running in the wrong direction, but M.K. was running from third base to home, grabbed Menno midway there, stepped on the home plate so her run would count, and set Menno off in the right direction. Sadie joined Julia and they cheered for Menno, only stopping when he made it safely to first base.

Suddenly, Julia felt so childish. She felt as if Paul would think she was . . . that she was so pathetically eager to see him again that she was making all this noise so he would know she was here!

And that was true.

Julia gripped Sadie’s arm. “Paul’s over there, all alone. Walk with me a little so it looks like we just happened to bump into him.”

As they turned to go, Paul’s mother, Edith Fisher, a large boxy woman, stood ahead of them in their path and fixed her eyes on Julia with a discouraging stare. “Don’t let her intimidate you, Julia,” Sadie whispered.

Edith gave Julia one of her thin, wintery smiles as they approached her. “Hello, Julia, Sadie.”

Julia braced herself. “Hello, Edith. And how are you?”

“I’ve hardly had a chance to see you since Paul canceled the wedding.” There was something triumphant about Edith’s expression.

“
Postponed
the wedding, Edith,” Julia corrected. “Paul wants to wait a few months. That’s all.”

Paul was now walking alongside Lizzie over by the creek. Edith noticed too. Julia’s heart sank. She could feel her face flush with warmth. She turned to Sadie to leave, but her sister was looking intently at Edith Fisher.

“Paul is young,” Sadie said. “But Paul is a good man.”

“He’s a fine man,” Edith Fisher said. “A fine, fine man.”

Sadie nodded. “And good men have room in their hearts for more than one person, you know. They can love their mother and their wife.” She put a hand on Edith’s arm. “Julia would never let Paul forget you.”

Julia heard Edith Fisher breathing, a slightly raspy sound, her eyes fixed on Sadie. Then Edith drew herself up tall and turned her attention back to Julia. “Folks are saying that Amos Lapp isn’t long for this world. And what will happen to you when he dies? Menno can’t take care of the farm. You’ll have to sell it.”

Sadie’s eyes went wide. “What?
What?”
She looked at Julia with panic in her eyes. “Dad is . . . dying?”

Julia put an arm around Sadie. What could she say to that? “Dad is trying some new treatment and it’s just going to take a little time to help him get stronger.” She pointed to the field. “Menno’s up to bat again. Will you make sure he runs toward first base?”

Sadie gave her a wobbly smile, threw a dark look at Edith Fisher, and walked back to the softball game.

After Sadie left, Julia turned to Edith. “Only God knows what lies ahead for my father, Edith. But I do know we are not selling Windmill Farm.”

“Well, I hope you don’t think you can talk my Paul into managing Windmill Farm! I count on him to manage the hatchery.”

Julia looked over at Paul, still deep in a conversation with Lizzie, who gazed at him with adoring eyes. Julia couldn’t blame Lizzie for being infatuated with Paul. It wasn’t just his dark blond hair, blue eyes, and easy smile that made him irresistible. It was his entire Paul-ness. She turned back to Edith. “I’m not counting on Paul for anything right now.”

Suddenly, Rome was at her side. “There you are, Julia! Here’s the ice cream cone you wanted.” He handed her a cone, dripping with melted ice cream. “Don’t forget that you promised to ride home with me today.” He grabbed her elbow and steered her to the bee wagon before she could object. He practically pushed her into the buggy. He hopped into the driver’s side and flicked the reins to get the horse moving. “You don’t have to thank me.”

Julia looked at him, baffled. This man’s head was full of kinks. “For what?”

“For saving you from Edith Fisher. She’s one of those people with whom there simply is no dealing.” He pointed out the window past her. “And you don’t have to thank me for that, either.”

She looked where he was pointing. It was Paul, watching Rome and Julia, with an odd look on his face. A shocked look.

Julia sighed—relief, happiness, elation!

“Paul Fisher is no match for you.”

Slowly, she turned to glare at Rome. What did
that
mean? Did he think Paul was too good for her? How rude! Rome was abominable.

And he was oblivious to her indignation. “Julia, when are you going to realize there are other men in this world than Paul Fisher?”

She regarded him primly. “Like you, for example?” She blew out a puff of air. “We discussed this when you first arrived. I am not interested, Roman Troyer.”

He wore a strange, bemused look on his face. “Well, I’m terribly flattered, but I’m not exactly the settling-down sort.” He gave the reins a small shake as the mule had slowed to a crawl.

Julia snorted. “You mean, the settling-for-anyone sort. You want to have your cake and eat it too.”

“I’m a pie man, myself. Cherry pie.” Rome gave a sly grin. “I was just trying to help out.”

“And why would you go out of your way to help me?”

“Well, excuse me for being a compassionate and caring human being.”

Julia rolled her eyes. “As much as I appreciate your misguided help, I have the situation covered.”

“So what exactly is your plan to win Paul back?”

She lifted her chin. “I am going to overcome his reluctance. I am going to be more forthright.”

His eyes opened wide in surprise, then he started to laugh. “You? You think you need to be
more
forthright?” Laughter overtook him, so much so that tears rolled down his cheeks.