Katie's Choice Page 11

  “Said he was goin’ to marry her once he prints his story in that fancy magazine of his.”

  Katie Rose tried not to let her disappointment or surprise show. Of course Zane Carson had a girl back home. He was handsome to a fault, hardworking, and . . . well, nice. Zane Carson was considerate of others, caring to those around him. Whether it was the years he spent with his uncle or the ones with the hippies, someone had taught him the Golden Rule—treat others as you would have them treat you.

  “Aw-ah.” Mary Elizabeth groaned, her disappointment clear.

  Ezekiel pointed his knotty cane at her. “Surely you didn’t have your sights set on him as a potential suitor. You are way too young, Missy Mary.”

  Mary Elizabeth blushed. “Of course not. But I was hopin’—”

  Katie Rose elbowed her into silence.

  Her niece shot her a look, then continued. “He seems like such a gut man.”

  Ezekiel started shaking his head before she was even halfway finished. “I can’t believe the bishop would agree to let another outsider in—even if he wanted to join up. Which no one has even thought about. Ach, t’would be a mess, it would. You girls best leave that young man alone and worry which Amish man’s heart you can capture.”

  Katie Rose opened her mouth to protest, but closed it instead. More and more these days it hurt to say the truth out loud: that if she was meant to have an Amish man, she would have found him by now.

  Or that she had found her Amish man, but hadn’t been able to compete with the lure of the Englisch world.

  The men made short work of the roof repair. As far as Zane was concerned, the old man’s house needed a new roof, and he mentioned the idea to Abram.

  “Jah,” he said, “but it will have to wait till spring.”

  Zane dipped his chin in agreement. The days had been unseasonably warm, but if he’d understood the talk at the general store, a cold snap would be coming soon. Surely the repairs they made today could withstand the mild Oklahoma winters. Then once spring came back around they would . . .

  Zane’s thoughts came to a sudden halt. Once spring came he’d be in Mexico. And he’d be married. He couldn’t imagine Monica traveling to Amish country Oklahoma to help an old man with his caved-in roof. Her idea of helping the needy was donating last year’s clothing to the Salvation Army. That didn’t make her a bad person. She’d just been raised differently. When someone needed something, she’d write a check, take the tax deduction, and jot a checkmark next to “good deeds.”

  This cohesiveness that the Amish displayed was part of their raising as well. They didn’t keep score. They did what needed to be done because it was the right thing to do. What made Katie Rose so different than the rest, he had yet to figure out.

  7

  Katie Rose took another step down the dirt road. It was a fine day for fishing, that was all. The birds were still singing their summer song. The trees had started their turn from green to shades of red and gold. Soon fall would be in full swing. Sometime next month, the courting couples of the district would state their intentions, and wedding season would be upon them.

  And soon, it’d be too cold for fishing. In fact, this might be her last chance to fill up the freezer with bass and tasty katfisch, which the boys so loved. So while they had been harvesting the last of the pumpkins and squash, she’d decided to get out her rod and reel and head over to old Ezekiel Esh’s pond. With any luck she might have enough fisch to spare for the deacon’s freezer as well. But that might take an extra hour or two, maybe more.

  That’s when the idea struck to invite Zane Carson along. What a fun and beneficial pastime to introduce him to. It wasn’t so terribly out of the way to walk over to her elders’ haus and ask the Englischer if he wanted to join her.

  Who was she fooling? She enjoyed the man’s company, and she should admit it in her thoughts, even if she would never say the words for others to hear.

  She took a deep breath. There was no harm in spending time with a person she liked. Besides, he had come here to learn about their lifestyle. Fishing to put food on the table was just one more facet for him to discover and write about in his fancy magazine.

  She turned down the dirt drive that led to her parents’ house, relieved and happy to see Zane Carson hammering on the front porch, as Noni sat in a nearby rocker and oversaw the project.

  “Good mornin’, Zane Carson.” She waved and tried to hide her smile at the sight of him.

  He shaded his eyes, his expression unreadable, though she thought she saw the flash of his dimples before he turned back to his work. “Good morning, yourself.”

  Katie Rose’s steps slowed. She was traveling at a snail’s pace by the time she reached the porch. “Guder mariye, Noni.”

  Her grossmammi just nodded her head. The old woman didn’t speak much, but Katie Rose had learned from experience that the little she did say was wise and true.

  “Did you come to help your family get ready for the church service?” Zane asked.

  She would have if she had remembered that the service was to be held at her parents’ haus the following day. She swallowed a sigh. She would need to say an extra prayer for allowing Zane Carson to fill her thoughts to the point that she had forgotten her duties to her church and family.

  “Of course.” She laughed. “And afterwards, I thought I might do a bit of fishin’.”

  “Fishing, huh?”

  She nodded, aware that Noni’s sharp green eyes didn’t miss her anxious swallow or the shaking in her hands. What was wrong with her? She was acting like a teenager on her way to her first singing. “Would you like to come along?”

  “Sure,” Zane Carson said. “Let me know when you’re ready to leave. If I’m done with the porch, I’d like to tag along. If that’s okay.”

  It was more than okay, but Katie Rose just nodded her head, the untied strings of her prayer kapp tickling her neck. “Jah, I will, Zane Carson.”

  A great deal of work went into getting ready for the Sunday church service. All of the furniture in the main room of the house had to be moved aside and wooden benches would be brought in. There was cleaning to do, baking and lemonade making, just about everything a body could think of. So much so that it was late afternoon before the house was ready, and Katie Rose felt as if she had done her part and was free to go fishing.

  But there wasn’t enough daylight left to fish and cook. She bit her lip, still longing for the time to spend with the Englischer and knowing that her responsibility lay with cooking for her brother and his rambunctious brood.

  “You’ve had that look on your face all afternoon. Spill it.”

  Katie Rose’s head jerked to attention. Annie Hamilton, her brother’s newly converted Englisch fiancée, stared at her intently. Her violet-colored eyes were unusual and intense in their study of her.

  The women were alone in the kitchen, the men out making sure there was enough hay and water to care for the district’s horses, and Ruth had long since gone upstairs for her afternoon nap, the church-readying activities quickly taking their toll.

  “I do not know what you are talkin’ about.”

  “At the risk of sounding too much like your brother, it is a sin to lie, Katie Rose Fisher.”

  Katie Rose smiled, then her face crumbled. “I . . .” she started, but wasn’t sure what words she should use, nor even how much she should say. I’m unworthy, I’m a bad daughter. I need forgiveness.

  “The Englischer, huh?”

  She blinked. “How . . .”

  Annie shot her a look.

  “Is it that obvious?” The air whooshed from her lungs like a deflated balloon. It felt gut to say it out loud, but at the same time, she wanted to call back the words.

  “I’ve seen that look before.”

  “Nay, it’s not like I love him or anythin’.�
�� Katie Rose ignored the look on her future sister-in-law’s face. “He’s just nice to be around.”

  “He is handsome,” Annie agreed.

  “Jah, there’s that.” It was the devil’s temptation. And she’d do well to remember that.

  “He seems to have grown accustomed to Plain living,” Annie added.

  “He was raised by hippies is all.”

  Annie laughed. “The hippies aren’t out there pitching hay down from the loft.”

  Katie Rose couldn’t allow herself fanciful thoughts. He was good looking, and he had adjusted well, but that didn’t mean anything past the three months that he had agreed to visit.

  “Get that look outta your eyes, Annie Hamilton. He’s not about to join up with the Plain folk.”

  Annie shrugged. “Stranger things have happened.”

  “Look how hard it’s been for you—and you have a reason to be here.”

  “That’s true.”

  They both nodded, and Katie Rose knew that, like her, Annie was thinking back to the late spring snowstorm and Gideon’s rescue.

  “It’s not likely the bishop would allow for another outsider to join the church,” Katie Rose said.

  “Even to save the heart of the girl his son once loved?”

  Katie Rose shook her head. The bishop didn’t care about such things. “Samuel Beachy didn’t break my heart.”

  “That’s not the way I hear Gabriel tell it.”

  “Hear Gabriel tell what?”

  Both women shot to their feet as if they’d been scalded with fire.

  “Zane Carson,” Katie Rose admonished at the sight of him. “You scared the life outta me.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

  Just how much had he heard of their conversation? Enough to know they were talking about him? Enough to hear the unwelcomed sigh in her voice whenever she said his name?

  Annie moved toward the fridge without waiting for his answer. “Are the folks ready for a drink?”

  She began pouring cold lemonade into plastic cups as Zane Carson sat down across from Katie Rose.

  “You still planning to go fishing?”

  She shook her head. It had been a foolish idea. She should have never considered it. But her heart seemed to get silly around marriage time. Well, around this marriage time. The best thing to do for the remainder of Zane Carson’s visit was stay as far away from him as possible. “Nay. There’s not enough daylight left for fishin’ and cookin’.”

  “Of course, there is,” Annie interrupted. “Mary Elizabeth can cook tonight.”

  Katie Rose wanted to fold her arms on the table and hide. “What do you have against Gabe today, Annie?”

  It was no secret that Gabe had grudgingly accepted Annie into their lives, but to punish him by subjecting him to Mary Elizabeth’s attempts in the kitchen was not to be taken lightly.

  “Pee-shaw,” Annie said with a smile. “Her cooking isn’t all that bad. Plus, it’d be good to have some fish to feed the teenagers tomorrow night. Maybe I could talk Gideon into setting up the fryer.” Just like that Annie was off and running with ideas.

  And Katie Rose was free to go fishing—with Zane Carson right behind.

  She gathered up her supplies while Zane fetched a pole from the barn, then they set off toward her favorite fishing hole, the one at the backside of Ezekiel Esh’s place. It was a perfect pond. Spring fed, with cool banks and the perfect shade tree off to one side. Long ago someone had rolled a felled trunk close to the tree. Katie Rose loved nothing more than an afternoon of sitting on the log with a line in the reedy water.

  She dropped her tackle box then, stood on the bank staring out over the peaceful pond.

  Zane Carson stepped beside her. “Relax and have a good time.” His voice so close made her jump like a skittish pony.

  She whirled around and wiped her hands down her oldest everyday apron. “I am havin’ a good time.”

  He shot her a look that said he didn’t believe her.

  “I just don’t want you to get the wrong idea about today.”

  He crossed his arms and watched her shift from one foot to the other. “Wrong idea about what?”

  “Me. Invitin’ you to come fishin’.”

  “There’s not much else I can get from it other than you wanted somebody to bait your hook.”

  Katie Rose planted her hands on her hips, her anxiety gone in one fell swoop. “I’ll have you to know I am not afraid of baitin’ my own hooks, but I use lures instead. For no other reason than they catch the best katfisch in the county.”

  “Uh-huh.” He held up one of her lures. “I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

  She plucked it from his fingers. “That’s because they’re one of a kind. That one is my favorite.”

  He picked another and held it up. It was a hook with the tiny, bright yellow frog on the end. A hot pink feather was attached to one side.

  “How do you know they’re one of a kind?”

  “Because I made them myself.”

  An interested light kindled in his deep brown eyes. “Really?”

  “For sure and for certain,” she said, but self-doubts floated to the surface. “What’s wrong with them?”

  “Nothing, they’re great. I think you could make a fortune selling these. If they work.”

  “Oh, they work all right.” She placed the sticky purple octopus to the end of her line and threw it into the water. In no time at all, she pulled a large catfish to the bank.

  Zane laughed as he watched her take it off the hook and string it on the live line. She drove the stake into the ground, then washed her hands in the pond water.

  He tried to imagine Monica standing on the muddy bank in green rubber boots with a fishing pole in one hand, but came up short. That was unfair. He sure couldn’t make it work in the other direction either—Katie Rose, in a sequined gown, at the latest fund-raiser. No, wait. That one did work. Her hair pulled up in a ringlet hairdo with makeup and a ball gown. But he didn’t like the image. He took in the shape of her face, the glow in her eyes. Yes, he preferred the one in front of him now.

  Like it mattered.

  Katie Rose threw her line back into the water and sat down on the towel she’d brought.

  Zane leaned back against the tree, but the accuracy of her lures came to the forefront of his thoughts. “Were they expensive to make?”

  She cocked her head. “Sorry. What?”

  “The lures. Was it expensive to make them?”

  “Nay. The feathers are cheap. Coln Anderson at the general store orders them in a big bag. The frogs and such came out of the gumball machine in front of the gas station.”

  Zane couldn’t stop his laugh. “You realize you could charge ten dollars a pop for these.”

  Katie Rose shook her head. “Plain folk are not about takin’ advantage of people.”

  “It’s not about taking advantage; it’s about marketing and fair trade. At an eighty-percent profit rate, you could make a bundle.”

  She was shaking her head before he even finished. “We do not work for profit, only for what we need.”

  “And your mother’s treatments?”

  She sighed. “It would help a lot. To put the money back in the church.”

  “You ought to give it some thought. Even if you just sold them around here, it’d be a great addition to the family business.”

  “Family business?”

  “The pickles.”

  Katie Rose nodded and pulled at the fish on her line. “I suppose it would.”

  Zane was glad to feel the tug on his own line. Not that he was afraid she’d out fish him, but to give him something to do besides stare at her.

  Once both fish were on the live line and their lures drop
ped back into the water, she asked, “If’n I decided to start sellin’ my lures, would you help me?”

  “Sure. I mean, for as long as I’m here.” He hadn’t thought about leaving in days, hadn’t made any plans for his return. Strange, but Chicago seemed a lifetime away from this day, this bank, this company.

  His admission must have upset her for she got really quiet after that, staring out at the water, a pinched look wrinkling her otherwise smooth brow. “I hear tell you have a special someone waiting for you in Chicago.” Her voice was quiet and unreadable.

  Was she feeling the same pull as he?

  He sat up, pole forgotten, then picked up a small stone for something to do and tossed it into the pond. Ripples formed and swam to the shore one after another. The disturbance wasn’t good for fishing success, but he had to move. Had to do something. “Yeah,” he finally said.

  “What is she like?”

  A few weeks ago, marrying Monica seemed like the most natural thing in the world. And now . . . ? “She’s got dark hair, and she’s small like Annie. But her eyes are blue.”

  “But what is she like?”

  Zane had to think about it a second. “She runs a magazine that her father owns. It’s about fashion and makeup and girl things, so she’s very aware of how she looks when we go out. She’s always dressed up and made up and . . .” He’d been about to say perfect. But was there such a thing? “She does a lot of charity work, benefits and that sort of thing.”

  “What kind of church does she go to?”

  “I don’t believe she does.” How could he have known someone as long as he had known Monica without knowing her religious affiliation?

  Katie Rose finally turned to look at him, her jade-colored eyes questioning in their disbelief. “She doesn’t go to church?”

  “Not everyone has such a strong church background as you do, Katie Rose.”