Wanted (4 page)

“I don't fancy him, Anna.” The words came out harsher
than she intended, but for the life of her, Katie wouldn't take them back. She was tired of being seen as only a silly girl. She was more than that. Why, if everyone only knew the things she'd done…

They would be mighty surprised, for sure.

Eyes wide, Anna stepped back. “Sorry. I didn't mean to press.”

Katie was sorry for her words, too. But she didn't feel like apologizing. Yet, she knew she must. “I'm the one who is sorry, Anna. Please forgive my sharp words.”

Green eyes blinked. “Is there anything that I can help you with?”

“No.”

“Is it me? Does my being here bother you?”

Finally she could speak the truth about something. “No, Anna. Your being here is wonderful
gut
. Truly. Now let's do what we're supposed to do,
jah
? We have to finish preparing dinner, cleaning the kitchen, and ironing napkins, just like
Maam
said.”

Anna chuckled. “I'll finish up those napkins, Katie.”

 

Later that day, after they'd served dinner, the kitchen had been cleaned and the animals tended to, after her father had read from the Bible and they all said good night, Katie was alone with only little Roman for company, snug in his basket with his favorite blanket that he liked to chew.

Carefully she opened the chest of drawers and pulled out a box from her past. A fancy papered box left from her time with the English. Like a fugitive, she'd smuggled
it into the house, deathly afraid her mother would find it. Would ask why such a gaudy piece of work was in her possession.

Katie couldn't rightly say. All she did know was that she couldn't bear to part with the memories.

Not even the bad ones.

With a furtive glance toward the door, Katie carried the box to her bed and settled in. And then she lifted the lid. The heady fragrance of her secret life roared out of the enclosure like the spirit of Christmas past.

She blinked away the memories each scent envisioned.

Mint. A crushed rose. A tiny stuffed bear. Several fancy store-bought cards. With a sigh, Katie picked up the little brown bear and rubbed it against her cheek. If she closed her eyes, she could remember receiving it. Remember the joy she'd felt. The longing for things that couldn't be.

Of things she shouldn't want.

As if burned, Katie hastily tucked it back into the box and closed it. But still the scent lingered. Remnants of another time. A time that unfortunately wasn't so long ago.

In her stark room, the memories seemed out of place. Foreign. As if they belonged to someone else. Someone reckless and wild. They belonged to the person she'd been for fifteen months.

It had all started out simply enough. She'd gone with two other teens to the back of Jonathan's land, where a duffel bag was hidden. Inside were jeans and sweaters and T-shirts. Donning them felt exciting and terribly scary.

She'd felt far more wicked when she took off her
kapp
and loosened her hair. Laura gave her an elastic to put it in
a ponytail. Then she, Laura, and Laura's neighbor James walked to town.

Looking back, Katie knew they'd looked nothing like regular
Englischers
. She had the wide-eyed expression of a deer in the glade.

But when they'd gone into a coffee shop called the Brown Dog, Laura introduced Katie to Holly and her brother, Brandon. The moment Brandon had looked her way and suddenly smiled, Katie had been smitten.

Oh, he'd been so handsome. He'd looked just like a man in one of Anna's fashion magazines that she'd shared with her back when she used to visit for quilting classes.

And Holly, well, she'd liked Holly so much, too. Though Holly was a few years older, she liked many of the things that Katie did. And she'd been so nice. So friendly. She introduced Katie, Laura, and James to a number of her friends. And because Holly had accepted her, the other teenagers had, too. One hour passed, then two. The next thing she knew, Laura was telling Katie that they needed to leave as soon as possible.

To her delight, Brandon had looked disappointed. “Can I have your phone number? I'll give you a call later.”

Since of course the only phone they had was for business at the inn, she put him off. “My folks don't like me to receive phone calls.”

“Oh. Well, how about I stop by?”

“No, that's probably not a good idea, either.”

Puzzled, he raised his eyebrows. “Well, will you at least come back here soon?”

His eagerness to see her again brought forth a rush of
pleasure. Had she ever felt so wanted before? “Sure. I can do that.”

“Tomorrow? We'll be hanging out here again tomorrow.”

Holly had grabbed her hand. “Please say you'll come back.”

Though Laura and James were tapping their feet impatiently at the front door, Katie nodded. “I will. I'll see you both tomorrow.”

“Promise? We still have so much to talk about. You haven't even told me about your school or your friends.”

“I will come back. I promise.”

Moments later, Laura called out her name. “Katie, we must go
now
.”

Holly chuckled as Katie practically ran out the door. “See you!”

The whole way home, Laura and James had talked about how strange the
Englischers
were. Laura in particular was uncomfortable. “If that is what we've been missing, I have to say I am glad,” she'd stated. “Katie, did you see the way that one boy was looking at you? I think he liked you.”

She had noticed. “I did.”

“He talked to you a lot, too. What was he talkin' about?”

“Nothing special.” The lie felt horrible sliding off her tongue, but Katie did her best to look innocent.

“He was fairly handsome, I mean for an English boy.” With a sweet look toward James, Laura added, “I much prefer the Amish men I know.”

Katie had said nothing, mainly because she'd known that Laura really only wanted James to notice her.

So, she never told a soul she had plans. Secret plans. The first of many.

Katie's hands shook as she stared at that box. Quickly, she put it away, hoping its removal would banish the memories.

Still they remained, stark and vivid. Not the least bit faded.

Quickly she put on a thick nightgown, hoping the soft flannel would chase away the chill that was surrounding her.

After checking on Roman, who was still happily curled in a little ball, Katie crawled under the thick layers of blankets and quilts. But sleep wouldn't come. Why was she thinking about Holly and Brandon after all this time?

Could it be because of the things that Brandon had said? Because lately she was realizing that maybe no one would ever say words like that to her again?

Katie closed her eyes to ward off the memory. To ward off the wishes.

When no relief came, she did the only thing she could—she prayed to the only one who could give her peace. “God, please help me. I've been so good lately. I'm doing everything I can to make amends. Is that what is important? Is that enough?”

Only silence met her words. Swallowing hard, she spoke a little louder. “Lord, I can't go back to the way I was. I need the protection of my family, of my Order. I need Your healing grace. Please stay with me and hold me. Walk by my side. Show me the way.” She closed her eyes and
prayed one of her favorite verses. “Blessed is everyone who fears the Lord, who walks in his ways.” But even the quote from Psalm 128 did little to ease her burdens.

In fact, all Katie noticed was that the lingering scent of roses and mint still hung thick in the air.

 

Katie was playing with Roman, enjoying the rare afternoon sun when Henry approached, his expression as serious as if he was going to a burial.

“Someone left this for you at McClusky General Store,” Henry said as he handed her a white business-sized envelope.

As she turned it over in her hands, worry gripped her. “Did
Daed
see it?”

“No.” He looked at her curiously. “The person said it was for an Amish girl named Katie. Ron said he didna know of anyone else by that name. Is it yours?”

“Maybe. Probably.” As she looked at the writing on the envelope, Katie fought to keep her expression innocent.

It was mighty hard to do, because from the moment she'd spied the writing on the envelope, she'd known immediately that the letter was for her and her alone. More important, she also knew who the author was. Holly's handwriting had had those distinctive curves. No one else had ever written her name so fancy.

It seemed a strange coincidence that Holly had written her so soon after she'd just been thinking about her.

Unfortunately, Henry was not as easy to fool as she might have hoped. “Katie, who would be writing you in care of the general store? What is the note about?”

“Nothing. I…made some friends among the English. You know that. This must be from one of them.”

“But you aren't looking at the note like it's from a dear friend. You are looking at it like it might bite you.”

She gripped it harder. Wished she could just wish it away. Wish that neither Henry nor she had ever seen it. With even greater effort, Katie fought to keep her voice calm and neutral. “Don't be silly.”

Still playing detective, Henry said, “If this person is such a good friend, why didn't she have your address? Why all the secrecy?”

“I don't know the answer. I haven't opened the letter yet, have I?”

“Well, then, open it up.” He crossed his arms over his chest and waited, just like he'd used to do when they'd walk to school and she hadn't been able to keep up with his long stride.

There was no way she wanted him to spy the contents. She slipped it in the pocket of her apron. “I will, later.”

“But—”

“It's private, Henry.”

“Private?” A pair of lines formed between his brows.

In her pocket, the letter's weight burned. “I'm allowed privacy too, aren't I?” Remembering how she'd interrupted him and Anna kissing just two days ago, she said, “Or is privacy only for courting couples?”

Henry bowed his head in embarrassment. “Of course you may have your privacy. You are as prickly as a cactus lately. I don't know what's wrong with you.”

“Nothing is wrong, Henry.”

“You canna fool me, Sister. I've known you too long for that.”

After securing Roman in one of the stalls in the barn, Katie scrambled to her room, letter safely hidden in her apron, Henry's words echoing in her heart.

Yes, she had changed. And it didn't matter how sweet and kind she tried to be now. Inside, where it counted, she'd always be the girl who made a very big mistake…and had run from it.

As she stared at the letter she only knew one thing for certain: she was wanted again.

Winnie was in good spirits. “Malcolm's letter was a full three pages. He gave me news about his family and their neighbors. He sends his good wishes to you, Jonathan.”

“I appreciate that,” Jonathan mumbled. When Winnie looked up, he turned back to his task of loading the wagon so she wouldn't see his expression. It was getting harder and harder to keep his personal feelings about Winnie's pen pal to himself. It was even more difficult to refrain from sharing his thoughts about her infatuation.

“Do you appreciate his wishes? You don't sound like you do.” She walked by his side as he continued to load the wagon. Halfheartedly, she shoved in a pail of nails next to a pile of wood. “You don't sound interested in my letter at all.”

The moment she turned, Jonathan rearranged things so the nails wouldn't fall over.

“This letter, it is your business, not mine.” When he noticed her shoulders slump, he wished he could take back his words. But really, at the moment, he begrudged his sister's interest in Malcolm Troyer. He was an interloper in their life.

“Well, he extended an invitation again.”

“Uh-huh.” Jah
, this Malcolm was an inconvenience, that's what he was. He needed Winnie's attention here in Ohio. Jonathan needed her help with the girls.

Plus, he had no desire to stand around and discuss every written word in Winnie's letters yet again. His sister could wrestle with each sentence's meaning for an hour at a time.

He had no desire to do that. Besides, he'd been meaning to work the back fences today. There was much to do, since he only had Saturdays to get anything done. Over the last few years, he'd gradually worked more at the lumberyard with Brent and farmed less. The money was better, and far more stable. That was a good thing, since so much in his personal life felt unsteady.

Still holding the letter, Winnie said, “It's time I went to visit him. Past time.”

“It's a shame he can't travel here. That's the way of things, don't you agree?”

“I already told you that his father is sick, and that Malcolm must run their hardware store. Honestly, Jonathan, didn't you hear me?”

“I heard you.” Yes, he heard her, but other things weighed on his mind, most especially Mary and Hannah. Once again, they'd seemed whiny and angry the evening
before. Mary had gone about her chores so slowly that they took double the time that they should. Hannah just frowned and clutched the doll Sarah had made for her even tighter.

It's been almost two years now, Lord. When are You going to make things better?

“Jonathan?”

“I'm sorry. I am,
uh,
interested, just busy, you know.”

She took his apology without much thought. “I worry about planning ahead, but I feel that something is mighty special between me and Malcolm.” Dimples showing, she blurted, “For the first time in my life, I have hope for a family of my own. Perhaps I'll be planning a wedding soon.”

Jonathan bent down to pick up a shovel in order to hide his scowl. Winnie sounded so happy and optimistic. However, at the moment, he couldn't think of a worse thing than Winnie courting and marrying. What would he do with the girls then?

“Jonathan?” She picked up the leather glove he dropped. “What do you think?”

With a nod of thanks, he took the glove and paired it with the other. “I think you're counting chickens,” he mumbled, though even to his own ears he knew he sounded grumpy and terribly old. When had he forgotten what it was like to be in love? To want to be in love?

“Not necessarily.”

“Winnie, you've never even met this man, face-to-face.”

“But I will soon.”

“Well, I just don't want you to go getting your hopes up.” Now that was a foolish thing to say, indeed! Her
hopes were already up so high, a kite could be attached to them.

“Did you and Sarah always know you were going to be married?”

The question brought to mind images of Sarah. Of her ruddy face and matter-of-fact ways. Of her easy laugh. Of the first time he'd kissed her. “No. Not always.”

“When, then?”

“I couldn't say.” When had he first thought about a life with Sarah? When he'd first spied her at a neighbor's wedding? When he'd known she'd return his feelings?

Winnie leaned against the wagon. “Come now, Brother. Tell me something worth remembering.”

“There isn't much to tell.” And there really wasn't. If a person was looking for a story about flowers and romance, their engagement was surely not it.

But because Winnie still waited for a reply, and she did so much for him, and because she was asking and she didn't ask for much, he tried to remember. Slowly Jonathan said, “As you know, Sarah and I met when we were young. Courting and marriage seemed like a
gut
idea.”

“You were anxious, right? You married young.”

Had he been anxious? All he remembered was that it had been expected and he had no reason not to marry Sarah. But that sounded so harsh. Clearing his throat, he murmured, “We were ready.
Mamm
and
Daed
helped us, remember? We lived at home for quite a time.”

All moony eyed, Winnie nodded. “I remember that. You and Sarah, down the hall.”

Yes. To his shame, Jonathan had been terribly happy with the arrangement. His mother had been a good buffer between him and his demanding, outspoken bride who always had something to say about everyone and everything. At least once a day he would wish she'd hold her tongue more. But she never did.

No, Sarah was a gregarious sort. That was for sure. She'd always eagerly invited scores of people over to their home, creating extra work for everyone. She had often complained about how much he worked and finally asked him to spend most of Saturdays with her. She'd never understood his need to work.

She'd never understood his reluctance to be around people. No, Sarah had not been a wallflower. Not even a little bit of one.

Winnie cleared her throat. “Jonathan? Well? What happened then?”

“You know what happened. We moved here. Then…well, you know…”

“Everything's so different now.” A cloud fell over his sister's face.

That much was true. Not two years after he and Sarah had taken their vows, their father was diagnosed with cancer and died. Then Sarah's accident…What would have happened if Sarah had not been so intent to return from her outing at twilight, on such a foggy night? The dim light, combined with the fog, had made it near impossible for the approaching car to see either the reflective tape on the side or the slow-moving vehicle sign on the back
of the buggy. Within seconds, Sarah was severely injured, the buggy mere toothpicks, and the horse dead. Sarah had died before the ambulance reached the hospital.

After the accident, when he and his girls were still numb, his mother had lived with him. Last year, when it became obvious her health was failing, too, she announced that she would go live with her sister, his aunt up near Lancaster, Pennsylvania. It was decided that Winnie would be a better helpmate to Jonathan and the girls.

“Our family has had its share of sadness,” he said, though that statement didn't near describe all the topsy-turvy turns his life had taken.

Winnie pushed away from the side of the wagon and practically skipped by his side. “I'm fair to bursting about going to Indiana. I hope Katie comes to her senses soon.”

Oh, how uncomfortable that visit to the Brennemans had been. He'd near ripped his hat in two, he'd been gripping it so hard. “I hope so, too.”

“I have a feeling that something else is going on besides Irene and John not wanting her near you. Did you get that feeling, too?”

“It doesna matter what I think.”

“Now Katie is someone who I'm surprised didn't marry right away. She's so pretty. When we were best friends, all she ever talked about was wanting to be in love. I tell you, I always saw her making little things for her hope chest and planning her marriage. What do you think happened? Why do you think she hasn't met her match?”

He walked to the barn to get Blacky, their horse. “Don't ask me about such things.”

“Don't be such a stick in the mud. Come now, you must have had some thoughts on her.”

Katie Brenneman was a fair sight, for sure. Blue eyes as fresh as spring. A slim, becoming figure. Light brown hair always plaited neatly under her
kapp
. A pleasant disposition. A pretty smile and an adorable way about her that had always drawn him close. “Her married state is none of our business.”

“I know, but—”

“I best get going, Winnie. You know I canna stop and chat all day. Work has to get done.”

“Oh, all right. Jonathan, you are far too serious sometimes.”

“I know.” He kept walking in silence, but privately argued fiercely over that. When he was younger, he'd been always up for fun and mischief. He loved a good joke, either of the practical nature or a simple story.

Time and again, their father had encouraged him to mind his manners a bit more. Sarah, on the other hand, had wanted him to be more lighthearted all the time.

Yes, Sarah had never had a problem with telling him what she thought.

Jonathan had a feeling life with Katie would be different. She had a sweet way about her and an easy laugh. Yes, he did, indeed, find her very pleasing. He'd also been aware that she'd fancied him. And though he shouldn't feel flattered and full of himself, he did, indeed.

 

We need to talk about Brandon. Can you meet me on Sunday at noon? I'll be at the Brown Dog Café, just like old times.

Katie's hands shook as she stared at the note again. What would it be like, going back to the Brown Dog? She hadn't been there since she'd confessed everything to Brandon and Holly. She'd certainly never stepped inside the coffeehouse dressed Amish.

Church services at neighbors' homes only took place every other Sunday. This Sunday was an off week, so she'd be able to go, if she really wanted to.

The Brown Dog was in walking distance, if a person didn't mind the windy roads to get there. Situated in Peebles, it sat on the outskirts of a small town and attracted a variety of people. Mostly teenagers and college students hung out in the booths and old tables. Mixed in with the teenagers were a few young adults eager to take a break. Katie had liked the place from the moment she'd followed James and Laura inside.

The walls were exposed red brick. Black-and-white photos in silver frames hung scattered all over the walls. The scenes were of places in Europe. Exotic places Katie had never dreamed of seeing.

Places Katie knew she'd most likely never visit.

And that had bothered her mightily when she was seventeen. She'd opened her eyes to music and art and fashion and had been inundated with sites and smells and images so completely unfamiliar and strange that she'd been drawn to them.

Not so her other Amish friends. No, Laura and James had first taken her there one evening, but then had found nothing in the Brown Dog that was worthy of note. After that, Katie had gone by herself.

Events had spiraled at a breakneck speed, then fell apart, shattered as a finely made glass. The shards had pricked her, too. Some still lay embedded in her skin, pushing to get out, making her wince if she moved suddenly. If she forgot they were there.

When she'd left Brandon and Holly for the very last time, Katie had felt terribly embarrassed and ashamed. It had been difficult to admit to being a liar for almost two years. And that was what she had been.

Their questions and confusion had echoed in Katie's mind long after she'd torn out the front door, grabbed her bicycle, and pedaled as quickly as she dared back to everything that was familiar. Right then and there, she'd promised herself to never stray again from the Amish way of life. To never pretend to be someone she wasn't.

An hour later, in the woods bordering the Lundy's farm, Katie hopped off the bicycle, removed the jeans and sweater, and slipped back on her dress. The air had been chilly—she'd welcomed the sting on her skin. With easy, comforting movements, she'd braided her hair and positioned her
kapp
. By dipping a cloth into the edge of the river, she'd removed the last sheen of pink lip gloss.

Finally, she gathered up all her “English” clothes into a pillowcase and tossed them into the river. After valiantly attempting to float, the items sunk.

Very slowly, she walked the rest of the way home. Head down. Proper. Circumspect. But she couldn't forget who she'd pretended to be.

We need to talk.

Stunned into the present again, Katie stared at the
words. The note sounded so desperate and sure. What in the world could Holly want? What could she possibly want to speak to Katie about after all this time?

More important, what had happened in Holly's life to prod her to even want to contact Katie? Holly had been so mad when Katie had confessed everything. Katie would've thought nothing would ever have encouraged Holly to seek her out. The note sounded urgent and determined, which made Katie feel even more on edge.

Closing her eyes, Katie remembered so many good times she'd shared with Holly and Brandon. They'd gone to the mall, hung out in front of the TV, all things that Katie knew weren't wrong. But the web of lies she'd told about her life at home had been.

She'd made up stories about super-strict parents and baby sisters so Holly and Brandon would stop asking to visit her house. She'd held Brandon's hand and let him speak to her about proms and dances and college visits—just as if she would one day do all those things.

With a rush of heat, she remembered the feel of Brandon's arms around her, the way his lips had felt against her own when they'd kissed for the first time. The way he'd looked at her, like he really liked her. Like she was special.