Katie's Choice Read online

  The thought made him sad. Why was it that people couldn’t get along? Why wasn’t believing enough?

  Yet without the wars, he wouldn’t have a job. That’s what he did, he covered wars, showed their horrors and brought in a hefty paycheck to do so.

  A twinge of guilt settled in his heart, but he pushed it away. He loved living life on the edge. His job made him feel alive, made his heart beat faster. He needed it to know that he was truly alive.

  He looked down at the drawing he held in his hands. When he’d first arrived, Abram had made it perfectly clear: no pictures. He had hoped by now to have changed the patriarch’s mind. Despite all of Jo’s determined coercing, Abram had not relented. So he’d taken up drawing instead. He couldn’t see the difference between one and the other, but there was something about pencil and paper that captured more emotion than he could with camera and film.

  There was the one of Annie standing at the stove, only the side of her face showing, her hair escaping in short little tendrils unlike the other women who had never had a haircut. There was one of John Paul low on the milking stool. And his favorite, the one of Katie Rose in front of the class teaching the minds of tomorrow. He had taken a page from the Amish dolls and not given anyone a face. Somehow that made the pictures distinctive, so much so that he wanted to keep them for himself. He hadn’t told anyone about them. Not even Monica. It would be easier just to not turn them in with the few generic photographs he’d taken of the barn and the house. These drawings he’d made of these people he’d grown to care for were too special to let slip through his fingers.

  Katie Rose watched her breath dissipate into the sunshine. Thanksgiving Day, and she had so much to be thankful for.

  How many times was she going to say that to remind herself?

  She did have a lot to be thankful for, but as the holidays set in, she found herself often wishing for . . . more.

  Was this truly God’s plan for her, and if it was, why did He let her have these feelings? A sense that she didn’t have the life she was destined to have encroached on her mind. Unhappy as a teacher, she felt unworthy for the blessings God had bestowed on her. She bowed her head and said a quick prayer asking for forgiveness. She had so much more than a lot of folks, and for the most part, she was happy. She was.

  “Katie Rose? Are you comin’?”

  She opened her eyes to realize she had been sitting in the buggy all alone. Mary Elizabeth had taken the box containing pies and the dish of scalloped potatoes into the house. Gabriel had helped all the boys down, and now he and Samuel were waiting on her to finish up and precede them inside.

  “Jah, I . . .” There wasn’t anything to explain. It wasn’t unusual to stop and pray. That was why women wore prayer kapps. There was nothing wrong with that, but she felt the heat rise in her cheeks. They had to be bright pink, but with any luck she could blame it on the cold if she were asked. A white lie, but surely forgivable.

  Gabriel helped her down from the buggy and together the threesome made their way into the house. To the outsider they surely appeared like a family: husband and wife and child. Surely they did. Maybe Katie Rose had let Gabriel’s need color her own decisions.

  Or had it been her own need for a place to escape all the sad looks and pity? She had put on a brave face and pretended like all was well. That she was more than satisfied to help her bruder in his time of need, when all she had been doing was hiding her feelings and pretending like she wasn’t hurt. She had pushed those feelings deep inside and not let them see the light of day. And that’s where she would keep them. It was too late to mourn now. She had made her choice, and she would have to live with it.

  “My goodness, Katie Rose”—Annie broke away from the kitchen and crossed the room to give her a tight sisterly hug—“You look—”

  “It’s from the cold,” she blurted before Annie could finish.

  “I was going to say angry.”

  She shook her head, her lips pressed together to keep all of her secrets from tumbling out. Since she had been here, Annie had been like a sister to her, had almost taken the place of her blood sister, Megan. Megan had clearly been their father’s favorite, and her leaving had nearly broken his heart.

  Katie Rose released Annie and ignored her frown of concern. She couldn’t admit out loud that just the thought of their Englischer visitor sent bright color rushing to her cheeks. Of its own accord, her gaze scanned the room and found Zane, sitting on the couch, one ankle crossed over the opposite knee. He had a coffee cup in one hand and a smile on his face.

  Her stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch.

  Annie followed her gaze. “So that’s how it is?”

  Katie Rose shook her head. “Nay.”

  “Well, something’s put that mournful look in your eyes.”

  Katie Rose squeezed Annie’s hand. Today she should be especially thankful that the Lord had sent Annie to them. “Maybe we can talk after we eat.”

  Annie’s sharp, lavender-colored eyes softened with affection. “You can count on it.”

  9

  As usual the house was filled with love and noise. Aside from Christmas, Thanksgiving was Katie Rose’s favorite holiday for fellowship, even topping Easter. The Easter holiday tended to be more quiet and subdued, a time to reflect on the sacrifices God had made for His believers. Thanksgiving was about taking stock of blessings, eating heartily, and reminding oneself of the things for which they were thankful.

  They were just about to sit down and eat when a knock came at the door.

  Looks were exchanged all around the room. Who could it be on a day like today? Yet Katie Rose knew. It had just slipped her mind once she’d gotten so caught up with her feelings—nay, thoughts—about Zane Carson.

  She stood up, ready to tell her family that she had invited a guest for supper, when Zane beat her to her feet. He rubbed his hands down the front of his barn door trousers and looked sheepishly from one to the other of them. “I hope it’s okay. I invited Ezekiel Esh to supper.”

  A chorus of jahs went up around the room. Katie Rose hid her smile. She and Zane had invited the same guest. Katie Rose had asked the deacon to come and sup with them when she had taken him a pot of rabbit stew. She had been worried about him. She knew she couldn’t be the only one in a district full of caring souls, but she had to make sure the man knew that his closest neighbor was thinking about him as the holidays approached.

  That Zane Carson had been thinking the same way as she . . .

  He looked around the room. “I suppose I should have said something before now, but I totally forgot. I’m sorry.”

  Katie Rose knew her family. What they had they would share with others. After everything that the church had provided for them, to be allowed to feed a church elder on this holiday would be an honor indeed.

  “Nonsense,” Mamm answered smartly. “We’d be most glad to have the deacon with us today.”

  Her father nodded. “Jah. It is gut to have someone for fellowship.”

  “And there’s plenty of food,” Annie added.

  Katie’s gaze swept across the heavily laden table. Roasted turkey that Zane Carson and John Paul had brought in, pecan dressing, bean casserole, cheese potatoes, ham, cornbread, yeast rolls, and more chutney than she could shake a stick at. They had more than plenty, thanks to the Lord. And they’d been blessed enough to be eating on this feast for days.

  Katie Rose crossed to the door and opened it.

  Ezekiel stood on the porch, his gnarled fingers curled around his cane. He knocked against the door frame on his way in the house. “I was beginnin’ to think I’d have to sup on the porch.” His eyes twinkled in jest.

  “That’d do no good for our standin’ with the Lord,” Abram shot back, and the room once again filled with laughter.

  John Paul went to fetch Noni, then family and gues
ts prepared to sit down and feast.

  Once everyone was seated around the table, Abram bowed his head and the others followed suit. How had she managed to end up straight across from Zane Carson?

  She glanced down the table at the bowed heads. Annie Hamilton. Annie had seated them. She was responsible for them sitting so close together. Katie Rose wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or bad, but her heart gave a hard thump at the thought of watching him all through the meal. He was handsome, she grudgingly admitted. A fine man to show off God’s handiwork. Strong jaw, now covered with a rusty-colored beard. He’d cut the beard close to his face, trim and neat looking she supposed, but to an Amish man, the longer the beard, the more devout he appeared. Zane had been clean shaven when he’d arrived at the farm, but he had grown his face hair, for warmth no doubt.

  His head was bowed as if he were praying with them too. Well, with her family. She had been gazing around the table and thinking about the physical attributes of their guest, not thanking the Lord for the blessings He had bestowed on them. Quickly, Katie Rose bowed her head and promised to say extra prayers before she went to bed.

  And if she got the chance she just might ask Zane Carson what he’s thankful for this year.

  After supper and pie and more tea and some coffee and more pie, Zane decided he’d never been so full in his life. Even on the inside. He’d bowed his head during the silent prayer, not really knowing what to say to this being he had decided was alive and listening. God. But somehow he’d found words inside him, words of thanks and gratitude for the things that he had in his life. He couldn’t contribute them all to God. He’d worked hard to get where he was. Paid his own way through school. Worked nearly every day to pay rent and tuition. He’d sacrificed a great deal of his personal life to show the doubters that he was worthy, that he had the moxie to take care of himself, even though he was alone in the world. Even though the odds were stacked against him from the very start.

  Like every other night since Zane had come to Oklahoma, Abram pulled the worn Bible from its place on the mantel. He settled himself into the rocking chair while everyone else gathered ’round. The fire crackled merrily in the grate, giving off a warm, golden glow that seemed to reflect the contentment that had grown within him.

  Zane glanced around the room, one face to another, marveling in the friends that he had found, the sense of family and belonging that he hadn’t known was missing until now.

  Then Abram began to read. “Give thanks to the Lord for He is good; His faithful love endures forever. Let Israel say, ‘His faithful love endures forever.’ Let the house of Aaron say, ‘His faithful love endures forever.’ Let those who fear the Lord say, ‘His faithful love endures forever.’”

  Zane felt safe . . . warm, loved. Blessed. The thought came gently, easing its way into his mind. What if he didn’t leave? What if he stayed? The possibilities filled his very being. Working the land each year, caring for livestock, marrying a sweet Amish girl and raising a passel of green-eyed kids as sweet and gentle as their mother.

  He looked up and caught Katie Rose’s gaze. She blushed as if she knew what he was thinking. He smiled and looked away, the intensity of the moment nearly frightening.

  The sentimentality of the holiday must be getting to him. He couldn’t stay. He had a perfectly fine life in Chicago. He was happy. He loved travelling, he loved Monica. Yeah, he loved her. Of course he did. Why else would he be marrying her?

  He stifled a nervous chuckle. What a hoot that he had even considered the idea. Moving to Amish country. Converting.

  “Zane? Are you all right?”

  He snapped out of his thoughts, jerking to attention. Katie Rose sat across from him gazing at him, concern in her eyes.

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

  He must have been sitting there awhile, warring with himself. Everyone else was gone. Even Annie was nowhere to be seen. “Where is everybody?”

  “Packin’ up the buggies and gettin’ ready to go home.”

  “Annie?”

  A rose-colored blush filled her cheeks. “I think she’s sayin’ good night to Gideon.”

  He supposed that their good night included a scorching kiss. He tried to forget the fact that Katie Rose was within an arm’s length and such a kiss could be just a heartbeat away. He couldn’t reach for her for so many reasons. True enough he longed to taste her lips, but she was different from the women he’d known. If they were anywhere else, and she wasn’t Amish, then he’d kiss her until the heat from their bodies set fire to everything around them. But they weren’t any place else, and she was Amish. And sheltered. And beautiful. Special. So very special that he couldn’t take advantage and cross the line between friendship and more. No matter how badly he wanted to.

  “I guess I should go on up to bed.” He regretted the words as soon as he said them. She didn’t seem to notice anything out of place or maybe she didn’t realize the intimacy he felt at saying those words to her—and the effect they had on him. “I mean, daylight comes pretty early.” He stretched and tried to cover his expression.

  She lowered her lashes, hiding her eyes from him. An English girl reacting the same way would have been coy and trite, but for Katie Rose, it seemed sweet and unassuming. He had it worse for her than he had thought.

  He turned and started up the stairs toward the room he shared with John Paul, getting away from Katie Rose before he did something stupid and wasn’t able to take it back. “Good night, Kate.”

  “Good night, Zane Carson.”

  10

  Friday dawned with overcast skies that sagged heavy with snow. In Chicago, such clouds meant inches upon inches of the white stuff, but no one else seemed concerned with the weather. Abram said it was early for snow, but not impossible. And even if it did snow, John Paul had added, it would melt before the day was through. That was good enough for Zane. These men knew the weather, had watched the skies for too long for him to doubt their word.

  The outside chores went on as usual, but the inside chores shifted as the women started to “redd up” for Christmas. Excitement spiced the air. This would be Ruth’s first Christmas since her diagnosis, and as far as anyone was concerned she had licked it good. But Zane could see the hesitation in her eyes whenever her next doctor’s appointment was brought up. He didn’t say anything to her, let her keep that bit of doubt to herself. Negative words held less power when not spoken aloud.

  “How will the doctor contact you with the test results?” Zane asked as they all sat around the dinner table the night before Ruth’s last appointment. At least that was the consensus of hope—that this would be the last appointment. That the doctor would declare her cancer free and the family could breathe a sigh of relief at the power of miracles and modern science. But for now everyone was subdued and quiet. Even John Paul seemed preoccupied and usually silent.

  “He will call the phone in the shanty out front.”

  There was no way of knowing when the doctor might call. Too much work still needed to be done for someone to stand by the shanty and wait on a call, but the idea of missing that call was ludicrous.

  When Zane said as much, Annie replied, “The bishop allows us to have voice mail so customers can leave messages for pickle orders. It wouldn’t be a problem to check for the message when we go to see about orders.”

  Zane couldn’t imagine having to wait day after day not knowing the results of the test. “You can give them my cell phone number. I can take it into town tomorrow and have Anderson charge it.” That would give him a chance to go by the school and check in with Katie Rose, too. He hadn’t seen her in a couple of days, and he missed her. Plain and simple.

  “That is mighty kind of you, Zane,” Abram said as Ruth nodded.

  John Paul brightened up for the first time the entire evening. “I can take you in my car.”

  Zane opened his mo
uth to politely refuse, as he would much rather take three times as long to get into town than risk life and limb in John Paul’s old Ford. “Aren’t you taking them to the doctor?”

  Abram shook his head. “Nay, Ruth Ann’s got Bill Foster, the Mennonite driver, to take her tomorrow.”

  Zane couldn’t help but notice that Abram didn’t talk about going himself. He didn’t look anyone in the face, and he especially avoided looking down the table to where his wife sat, her own head bowed, gaze dropped.

  Something was going on between them, and Zane couldn’t help but worry about their sadness. Cancer was a nasty bedfellow. He knew firsthand as he had watched his uncle slip away. But Ruth had more hope than Tim Carson ever had. She had God on her side.

  Zane just hoped He was paying attention to her marriage as well.

  The morning of Ruth’s appointment dawned bright, but cold in the way that Zane was slowly becoming accustomed to. Winter in Oklahoma was a curious mix of sunshine and wind. A person couldn’t judge the temperature by looking at the sky. He’d heard the men talking about crippling ice storms and blizzards so bad visibility was nonexistent. Of course, extreme weather wasn’t nearly as hard on the Amish as it was on their English neighbors.

  Despite the fact that the morning and afternoon that were to follow would be momentous in the family dynamic, chores went on as usual. Zane and John Paul went about their usual routine of feeding and milking.

  Zane had learned early on that wintertime brought about a break in the work. Amish farmers and their wives—their entire families—spent the spring and summer and half the fall trying to get ready for the winter. Food was planted, grown, harvested, and canned. It was a constant and busy life, but there was also something inherently satisfying about self-sufficiency. Something good and wholesome. How the Amish kept down their prideful feelings about such things was a mystery to Zane, for he felt nothing but pride at the end of the day.