Katie's Choice Page 25

  He rolled his eyes. “You know who it is,” he growled.

  She must have waited a full ten seconds before opening the door. Or maybe it just seemed that way because he was trembling inside. She stood in the doorway, looking as fresh and lovely as ever. Maybe he had overestimated the hurt she had displayed the day before.

  Her eyes flashed at him. “Where’s your girlfriend today? Or should I say fiancée?”

  “Where’s yours?” The words slipped out before Zane could stop them. He had no right to be angry with her, but she had every right to be mad at him. He furrowed his brow. “I didn’t mean that.”

  “Then what did you mean?”

  He pulled one hand from his pocket and leaned it on the doorframe. “Can we start over?”

  “Jah,” she said, and closed the door in his face.

  He waited for her to open it once again. When she didn’t, he reminded himself that she wasn’t going to make this easy for him.

  He knocked.

  “Who is it?”

  He chuckled. “Zane Carson. I’ve come to apologize.”

  She opened the door, her face a mask of sweetness. “Continue.”

  “Well, it seems that I may have given you the wrong idea.”

  “I may have misunderstood.”

  “And I wanted to say how honored I am to have known you these past few weeks.”

  Her dimples flashed, and Zane’s heart lurched. He was going to miss her. “As am I, Zane Carson.”

  He hated it when she used his entire name, but it was for the best. It put a distance between them that they needed to honor.

  “I’m leaving at the end of the week. I know you’ll be in school with the children.”

  “Won’t you stop and tell them all good-bye?”

  “I’ll do my best, but I’ll be with the driver.”

  “Just promise Bill some extra pickles, and he’ll do whatever you want.”

  Zane smiled at the truth of the statement. The Mennonite would do just about anything as long as they paid him in Fisher family pickles.

  Her winsome smile faded some. “I’m glad I got to meet you, Zane Carson. I was worried at first when you came, but I know now, God sent you. You brought laughter back into our fold. And for that I’m eternally grateful.”

  “Me too, Kate, me too.”

  But he was walking away with much, much more.

  Zane adjusted his jeans, feeling strange dressed in Englisher clothes after these months in Amish garb. He glanced around the room once again. Satisfied that he’d not forgotten anything, he closed the door behind him and made his way down the stairs.

  Annie, Ruth, Abram, and John Paul were standing in the living room talking to the Mennonite driver, Bill. Gideon had come over as well, offering Bill some wool from one of his prize alpacas, part of the first “crop” from his new livestock.

  “Are you all packed?” Ruth asked, her eyes running over him in true motherly form.

  “I think I got everything.”

  “You got your Bible?”

  Zane smiled. “You know it. Thank you for everything.” He bent down and kissed her cheek, then thought better of it and pulled her into a one-armed hug. He was going to miss her.

  “God bless you, Zane Carson.”

  “And you too, Ruth Fisher.”

  He released Ruth and moved down the line. “Abram.” He reached out a hand to shake and instead found himself in a hug. Something had happened between the Fishers since Christmas. Something that had chased the lines of worry from Abram’s weathered face and added the sparkle back into Ruth’s eyes. Somehow Zane knew God was at the root of it, and he was happy to see it there.

  He continued to say his farewells to the Fishers, even hugging John Paul and slapping him on the back in camaraderie. “Don’t go crazy out there,” he said. “Make the decision God tells you is right for you.”

  John Paul nodded.

  Bill took Zane’s last suitcase and loaded it into the back of his minivan.

  “You won’t forget to write,” Ruth said.

  “Of course not. And I’ll send you a copy of the magazine when it comes out.”

  “Better send one to the bishop too,” Abram added.

  Zane laughed. “Good idea.” He turned to Bill. “Katie Rose said that if I promised you some extra pickles you would take me by the school on our way out of town. I’d like to say good-bye to the children.”

  Bill smiled. “That Katie Rose always was a smart cookie.”

  “Will two jars get me a swing by Ezekiel Esh’s place?”

  “You know it.”

  “I need to tell him good-bye as well.” He’d miss the old man.

  “No time like now.” Bill shook Abram’s hand, then climbed inside the cab.

  Zane crawled in beside him, and rolled down the window, his heart both heavy and light at the same time. He’d gained so much from this visit, found new friends, an understanding of God, and he learned what goodness was all about.

  “Bye,” the Fishers called, waving their arms in farewell.

  As Bill backed the car and turned it around, Zane called out, “John Paul, if you’re looking for your keys, you’d better get a move on. Check the cookie jar first.” It would take him half the afternoon to find them. He grinned and rolled up the window, laughing as John Paul patted his pockets then took off toward the house.

  Zane chuckled as he drove away, a much better person than when he arrived.

  17

  The Davenports are having a party, but so are the McMillians.”

  “Uh-huh.” Zane tried participating in the conversation, but he was just so tired. Maybe it was the travelling, or maybe because he had become used to going to bed early. It was eight o’clock on New Year’s Eve and all he wanted to do was climb underneath the covers and not come out until the cows needed milking. Or he had to meet up with Jo.

  “Are you listening to me?” Monica took her eyes off the road for a brief second and flashed an irritated glance his way.

  “Of course.” It had definitely been a good idea to have her meet him at the airport. He hadn’t gotten his car out of storage since his last assignment. It had remained there after his surgery and recovery, so he’d simply left it there when he’d gone to Oklahoma. No sense getting it out now, since it wouldn’t be long before he left on assignment again. Normally the thought filled him with excitement and adrenaline. Now, it just . . . didn’t.

  “I don’t know which one we should go to.”

  “We?”

  “Yes, ‘we.’” She flashed him another look.

  “Oh, Monica. Do I have to go too?”

  “I’d like for you to.”

  “I know, but do I have to?”

  She pressed her lips together. “I guess not. I just . . . well, you just got home, and I wanted to spend some time with you.”

  “And attending a party with a hundred other people is going to be our quality time?”

  She sniffed. “When you put it like that, it doesn’t sound like such a good idea.”

  “It’s not. How ’bout we order a pizza and watch all the hoopla on TV?”

  She gawked at him. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve already told the McMillians that we’d be there.”

  He leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes, already tired of the argument. “That’s great, because I’m not going to be. I’m surely not going to speak for you, though.”

  He couldn’t see her expression, but her tone conveyed it all—frustration, anger, and resignation. “I understand. I shouldn’t have accepted the invitation for you too.”

  “That’s right.”

  She paused. “Do you mind if I go without you?”

/>   “Not at all.”

  “I’ll miss you, you know.”

  “I know. I’ll miss you too.”

  Yet Zane was asleep even before the ball dropped in New York City.

  The morning of January 6 dawned bright and cold. Old Christmas. For the Amish it was a quiet holiday filled with visits and friends. Presents had already been exchanged, but this was still a time for reverent celebration. Gabriel had packed up the buggy and taken the children to his parents’ house, but Katie Rose couldn’t rustle herself in time. She had pleaded a headache and watched as they drove down the road.

  She had tried to push all thoughts of Zane Carson from her mind, but they kept surfacing time and again. She pictured him fishing, opening his Bible, and at the schoolhouse saying good-bye. That had been one long week ago. The longest of her life. She could never remember feeling like this when Samuel left, so bereft and sad. But she must have been. How could she care more for an Englischer she had barely known for three months than she did the bishop’s son, whom she had known all of her life? She had promised that when she felt better she would walk down. The day was sunny and cold, so as long as the wind didn’t pick up too much she would be just fine. If she kept these ruminations up, she would find herself in bed with a rag over her face, instead of spending the afternoon with her parents.

  A knock sounded on the door. Katie Rose jumped, pressing a hand to her heart to slow its beating. “Comin’.”

  Who could that be on Old Christmas? Only one person she supposed. Jah. Samuel Beachy stood on the other side of the threshold, looking more like the man she fell in love with than he had since he returned. Black coat, black hat, and scarf that she supposed Noni knitted for him. Though his hair was still in the Englisch cut, she reckoned that under his coat he wore a blue shirt to match his eyes and a black for gut vest.

  She nodded her head. “Samuel.”

  “Katie Rose.” He bent his head and brushed a sweet kiss on her cheek. He smelled of sandalwood and mint toothpaste, but she couldn’t raise even the slightest thump of her heart over the familiarity.

  “I told you I was here to stay.”

  “That you did.” Had he? She couldn’t remember.

  “May I come in?”

  “Jah, of course.” She stood back and let him enter.

  He pulled off his coat, scarf, and hat and hung them on the peg inside the door. Underneath were the shirt and vest, just as she predicted. Who was it that said the more things change, the more they stay the same? They certainly knew Samuel Beachy.

  He warmed his hands by the fire, then settled himself on the couch.

  She hovered by the door, not sure what to make of this visit.

  “Come.” He patted the seat next to him. “Sit by me. We have a lot to talk about.”

  “We do?”

  “Jah.”

  Katie Rose moved to sit next to him, wondering at the wisdom of the decision. She perched on the edge, able to pop to her feet if need be.

  “Why are you acting so skittish?” He chuckled. “It’s me, Katie Rose. I came back for you.”

  “W-what?”

  “I know I hurt you in the past. If I had thought you would have gone with me, I would have taken you along.”

  “I might have. If you’d asked.”

  He sat looking a bit dumbfounded at this news.

  “Are you surprised? I loved you so much.”

  He swallowed hard, his confidence slipping. “You say loved—past tense. Does that mean . . . ?”

  “Love doesn’t die easily, Samuel Beachy.” It was the best answer she could give him. She didn’t know how she felt anymore. She had loved him once upon a time, and she thought that love to be stronger than anything in the world. Turned out she was wrong.

  “I never stopped loving you, Katie Rose. Never stopped wishing you were at my side. It’s taken me a long time to get to the truth, and the truth is, if I can’t have you in the Englisch world, then I’ll come back to the Amish world for you.”

  She stood, shaking her head. “Nay, it should not be like that. You should want to be here for God, your family, all the other pillars we stand for, not for me.”

  He was on his feet in a flash, cupping her face in his hands and turning it toward him. “That’s the beauty of it, don’t you see? Here I can have everything: God, my family, you. It took me leaving to know what I had.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, but he kissed her instead.

  She pulled away, but he held her close, his mouth inches from hers. “We can have it all. A family, everything that we planned before will be ours now. Marry me, Katie Rose.”

  How many times over the last six years had she wished for him to say those words to her? Countless. But now that he had? She wasn’t sure how to respond.

  He pressed his cheek to hers. “We can tell our families tonight.” He wasn’t asking. He was taking it for granted, assuming that she had been waiting for him all of these years.

  You have been.

  But it was different now. And yet it wasn’t. Zane had gone and had taken with him a big chunk of her heart. This was her chance at happiness and family, a home of her own, the children she had secretly longed for her entire life.

  Zane was gone, and Samuel was here. What choice did she have?

  18

  What do you think? This one”—Monica pointed to two different patterns of china on display—“or this one?”

  At least he assumed they were different. Zane could barely focus on another plate. And he certainly couldn’t tell the difference between the two white, gold-rimmed choices presented to him. “Uh-huh.”

  “Zane, are you listening?”

  He met Monica’s eyes. “Of course I am.” He hated the lie that slipped from his lips, but he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. He hadn’t been listening. He’d been back in Clover Ridge, wondering how Ruth was faring, if John Paul’s driving had improved any. And if Katie Rose had agreed to marry Samuel Beachy.

  Monica studied him, her blue eyes intense as they searched his face.

  Zane said a little prayer that she wouldn’t see the truth there, the fact that he would go back tomorrow if given half the chance. Clover Ridge hung like unfinished business around him. Called to him. Made him wonder if his life could be different—should be different.

  Zane averted his gaze first, staring across the room toward the big round clock on the wall. Wherever did they get a clock that size?

  “I think you could use a break.”

  “Hmm.” Definitely. They had been looking at house stuff all morning, registering for the wedding they hadn’t even set a date for yet.

  “We’ll finish another day,” Monica told the obviously disappointed clerk. She pushed her arms into the sleeves of her coat.

  “There’s a coffee shop just down the corner,” the ever helpful, commissioned clerk said as Zane pulled on his coat. The way it flapped around his knees annoyed him. Funny, but he’d never noticed that before.

  “Thank you.” Monica smiled at the clerk, then looped her arm through Zane’s and nudged him outside.

  The coffee shop was three stores down from the department store, the kind of place that served double mocha nonfat lattes, but frowned if a person ordered a regular coffee. The weather being what it was—cold—the place was crowded. Zane placed their orders and paid for their coffees as Monica found them a table.

  “I don’t think it’s Avery.” She snapped her fingers, then gave a knowing nod. “Maybe that blonde. Katie Rose. She is very pretty. Every girl I know would kill to have skin like that. And those eyes.”

  Zane sat back. “What are you talking about, Monica?”

  She took a tentative sip of her coffee and eyed him over the rim of the oversized mug. “You’re in love, of course.”

 
“Of course,” he repeated, hiding the fact that his heart plummeted to his feet as she said the words. He hid his reaction, staring into his coffee and stirring it as if his life depended on it.

  “With the Amish girl.”

  He looked up. “No.”

  “Zane, something’s going on. We’ve known each other too long to not be honest now.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I’m talking about love. This month’s issue of Talk is how to tell if you’re in love.”

  “Of course I’m in love. We’re getting married, aren’t we?”

  She flashed him a patronizing smile as she pulled her iPad from her bag. “Not with me.”

  “Listen.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. This conversation was getting way out of hand. “I’ll admit that I got a little caught up in the simplicity of their life, but I did not fall in love with anyone while I was there.”

  “Uh-huh.” She busily tapped the screen on the tablet till she got to the page she wanted. “How to Tell If He’s Still in Love with You or If He’s Set His Sails for a Different Shore.”

  “Seriously?”

  She shot him another quelling look. “Number one: moony-eyed. Uh-huh.”

  “Moony-eyed? It really says that?”

  “Easily distracted. Check. Defensive.” She dragged out the word as if she were a lawyer for the prosecution. “Definitely.”

  “Monica.” His voice was low with warning. Or was he being defensive?

  “Then kiss me.”

  He straightened. “What?”

  “You haven’t kissed me once since you got back.”

  “Sure I have.” Had he?

  Monica shook her head with a tiny little smile. “Kiss me.”

  “Right here?”

  “Yeah.”

  “But there are a ton of people in here.”

  “So?”

  “Any of them could be from the newspaper or the tabloids.”

  “Good publicity.”

  He couldn’t refuse, even though he wanted to. He pulled her to her feet and angled his head for the kiss.