Katie's Choice Page 6

  “Get in. I’ll take you there.”

  It wasn’t exactly what Zane had in mind, but there was no way around it. It would have made more sense to Zane if John Paul had poked around like a grandma driving as slow as the clomp of horses pulling a shiny black buggy. Next time, he thought, he’d beg a ride in the old-fashioned way. For research’s sake.

  Plan in mind, Zane held on tight as John Paul sped away from town.

  The one-room schoolhouse was beyond picturesque. Painted antique red, it sat on a hill in a little field, surrounded by minimal playground equipment and a large oak tree complete with tire swing. It was nothing like he’d ever seen and so different from what he had imagined. He’d expected . . . well, a school—bustling hallways, multiple teachers, cafeteria. School. Instead, he felt like he’d stepped onto the set of Little House on the Prairie. The feeling intensified as he watched the children in their old-timey Amish clothing file out the door. The only thing missing were the lunch pails of yesteryear. These kids carried regular insulated lunch boxes like the rest of American schoolgoers. Strange how differences and similarities melded together.

  “Looks like we got here just in time.”

  Katie Rose stood on the school porch handing papers to the children as they headed out for the day. “And don’t forget, sixth grade, you have a readin’ test on Monday.”

  One tall boy with too-short pants waved in recognition to her words. “Jah, Katie Rose. I’ll study hard.”

  The fact that only one child responded to her warning made Zane wonder if there was only one sixth-grader in the crowd of milling children. He made a mental note to find out more about the tiny school.

  “Goedemiddag, shveshtah,” John Paul called out what Zane surmised to be a greeting.

  “Goedemiddag, bruder,” Katie Rose returned. She kept her gaze firmly locked on the children as they disappeared down the road.

  Zane thought he recognized a few of Gabriel Fisher’s boys in the mix, but he didn’t stop them. He had learned a thing or two about Amish life since he had been in Oklahoma, and the boys would have a chore list as long as their arm to complete after they got home. He surely didn’t want to slow them in their attempts to get everything done before they enjoyed whatever after-school fun activities Amish children liked to indulge in. He made a mental note to find out what those activities included. It would make a great side note to his feature.

  “Wie geht?” John Paul called.

  “Gut, gut,” his sister answered.

  “English?” Zane protested lightly around his Astro Pop. He hated the fact that Katie Rose still wouldn’t look at him. What had he ever done to her? Nothing. He was English and different from her, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t have a working friendship while he was here. It was going to be a long three months if she kept this up.

  “I asked her how everythin’ was, and she replied—”

  “Good. That one I know.”

  John Paul nodded his head, as if impressed with Zane’s efforts.

  They crossed the yard under the oak tree, and Zane experienced another blast of nostalgia. Swinging from a rope and splashing down into an icy cold, clear-as-air creek. He must have been about eight. His stomach dropped at the mere thought of letting go of the rope and flying through the air. Where had the time gone? He hadn’t done anything like that in years. Something he needed to correct and fast. Perhaps on this trip. What better place to get his feet wet than rural Oklahoma?

  Katie Rose stood on the schoolhouse steps as her brother and the Englischer approached. As usual, Samuel had his hand fisted around the folds of her skirt as they stood outside in the beautiful Indian summer sunshine.

  “Zane Carson wanted to see the school,” John Paul explained.

  “I was just leavin’ for the day. But you can come in if you like.” Only politeness forced the words from her lips. She wasn’t in a hurry. There was nothing more urgent waiting for her at home than starting supper. But she didn’t want to be around the Englischer any more than necessary. And a tour of the empty schoolhouse was not necessary.

  “That’s okay,” Zane Carson said. “Maybe another day.”

  “Jah.” Secretly she hoped that day wouldn’t come. The thought made her feel rude and ungrateful. This man had come to help bring people to Clover Ridge, visitors that would spur their economy and indirectly fuel the coffers that paid for her mother’s cancer treatment. She should be more thankful for the blessing. But when she looked into those brown eyes she had to fight the urge not to run as fast as she could in the other direction.

  A tug pulled her skirt. She looked down into Samuel’s green eyes. “Wose,” he said using his abbreviated version of her name. “The boys.” He pointed to where his brothers walked across the playground toward home.

  “You want to go with them?”

  He nodded.

  “Jah, then,” she said. “Geh.” She resisted the urge to pat him on the head or kiss his cheek like she wanted to. He would always be like a baby to her, sweet and innocent, but more than anything he wanted to grow up confident and capable like his bruders.

  She watched him until he caught up with the others, love filling her heart. What a blessing he was despite the tragedy of his birth. Another of God’s lessons she had yet to understand.

  John Paul tugged on the Englischer’s arm. “Come on, then.”

  She thought she saw fear flash in Zane Carson’s eyes before he turned his full attention back to her.

  He turned his gaze on her, his brown eyes were warm and inviting. “How are you getting home, Katie Rose?”

  She hated the heat in his stare, so she turned away and instead watched after the kinder as they ambled down the road. “I usually walk with the children,” she muttered, hating the lack of conviction in her tone. Why did this stranger affect her so?

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “I . . . I should be goin’.” She pulled the schoolhouse door shut, realizing that she had left her lunch box on her desk. Nothing inside couldn’t wait until tomorrow, and she had to get away from Zane Carson as soon as she could. Immediately. Sooner.

  “How far is it? Home, I mean. To Gabriel’s house.”

  “Not far.” She hoped the I’ll be fine. I do this everyday. Please don’t invite yourself along was evident in her tone. It would have been downright ill-mannered to say the words. Especially since this man had come to help and at the invitation of her elders. But she needed to breathe air which he didn’t share. She tripped down the stairs and headed toward home.

  “I’ll walk with you.”

  “That is not necessary.” She trained her eyes on the road ahead, not trusting herself to look at him. With his shingled haircut and too-short barn-door pants she should have found him anything but intriguing. And yet she did. “My bruder will be expectin’ you to ride with him.”

  “Are you serious? Your bruder has got to be the worst driver I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet. I’m more than happy to have the excuse not to get in the car with him behind the wheel.”

  “Ach!” John Paul protested. “I’m a fine driver.”

  “Right,” Zane Carson replied, stretching out the word until it was as long as a country lane. “If it’s all the same to you . . .”

  John Paul shrugged. “Beat yourself out.”

  Her bruder had taken his rumspringa a bit too seriously. He had started watching Englisch movies and trying to talk like those actors he saw there.

  “Knock yourself out,” Zane Carson corrected.

  “Right.” John Paul jingled his keys and slid into his crazy Englisch automobile.

  Katie Rose resisted the urge to shake her head and instead reminded herself to say an extra prayer for him tonight. If his driving was indeed as bad as Zane Carson reported, then he would need the Lord watching over him for sure and for certain.


  “So can I walk with you?”

  “If’n you wish.” She turned to make her way behind the kinder. What else could she say? The man had no other means to get home, and she was positive he couldn’t manage the feat by himself. He had only been there three days.

  He held out a small brown paper sack toward her. “Would you like an Astro Pop?”

  She shook her head. “Danki. No.”

  “You’re not on one of those low-carb diets, are you?”

  She had no idea what he was talking about, so she just shook her head and made her steps a bit faster. She was determined to keep her students in sight until the turn-off toward home.

  Zane Carson lengthened his strides to match hers, and Katie Rose knew she’d be out-walked in no time. “Why do I get the feeling you don’t like me very much?”

  “That’s bunk, Zane Carson. I have no reason to have feelings for you one way or the other.” But she did. As much as she hated to admit it, she did.

  “Bunk?”

  “Nonsense. Poppycock. Drivel.”

  He laughed. “I know what it means, I just didn’t know anyone used that word any more.”

  His laugh stopped Katie Rose in her tracks. “Are you callin’ me backward?”

  He shrunk back, and she immediately regretted her harsh words. “Of course not. It’s just not every day a person hears the word bunk used in that way. That’s all.”

  Heat crept up her neck and flooded her face. It might have been a lie, but if asked, she could blame it on the wind, the sun, the exertion of trying to keep ahead of such a tall man. In truth, it was embarrassment that reddened her cheeks. Surely the Lord would allow her one little lie. She said a silent prayer for even thinking such a thing and kept on walking.

  “Why would I think you’re backward?”

  She shrugged. “It’s a common thought among the Englisch world.” Katie Rose chanced a look at him through her lowered lashes, surprised to see color filling his handsome face as well. “Tell the truth, Zane Carson, did you not think us backward when you came here?” She studied his carefully schooled, if not a little flushed, features and tried not to drown in the rich chocolate of his eyes.

  “I didn’t know what to expect. I’d never really given the Amish much thought. Sorry.” He grinned to take the sting from his words. “I’m a war correspondent. I’m normally in some third world country where backward has an entirely different meaning.”

  “Why aren’t you there now?” She owed the Good Lord many prayers of forgiveness tonight.

  He shrugged. “My editor thought I needed a change.”

  Katie Rose opened her mouth to ask him what it had been like to be off in the world, but she stopped herself. It didn’t matter how Zane Carson lived. It wouldn’t change her past. She wouldn’t be able to find the reason that Samuel Beachy had left her just months before they announced to their families their plans to marry. He’d told her there had to be something more out there. Something he was missing. She just couldn’t understand what. And trying now wasn’t about to change the course of events. The Lord had different plans in mind for her, namely, teaching the children and serving Him and their district. That was what her life consisted of now. And she was happy with it that way. Very happy.

  “Do you think I could come by tomorrow and see the school? I’d love to do a special story—”

  Katie Rose started shaking her head before he even finished. “No.”

  “Why not?

  “Because tomorrow is Saturday.” She hid her smile, feeling wickedly superior that she had verbally one-upped the fancy writer from Chicago. Just one more item to add to her prayers tonight.

  “Monday, then?”

  “I do not think that is a good idea, Zane Carson.”

  “I’m not going to hurt them or corrupt them. Everybody out there wants to know what goes on here.”

  She stumbled then, and would have fallen headlong onto the asphalt road had he not snatched her upright. Her arm burned where the warmth from his fingers soaked through the thin cotton of her sleeve. Emotions coursed through her: indignation, embarrassment, anger, and something else she didn’t want to name.

  She pulled away from him, feeling an even-deeper red flood her cheeks. She straightened her dress and raised herself to her above-average height. “We are not animals to be put on display. If the world wants to know about us they can just wonder. It is no concern of anyone’s how we choose to live.”

  Zane Carson blinked, then stared at her as if she had suddenly grown horns on her head. She resisted the urge to smooth a hand over her kapp to make sure all was in place.

  “Is that what this is about? You think I’m here to exploit you?”

  She crossed her arms in front of herself and pressed her lips together. It was one thing to harbor wicked thoughts and quite another to admit them . . . out loud . . . to an outsider.

  “That’s not my intent. I . . .” He stumbled over his thoughts. “I was invited here to do a job. Write a series of articles about life in a small Amish community. And that’s what’s I plan to do. I’m not here to make anyone look bad, or stupid, or anything.”

  He sounded so sincere, Katie Rose wanted to let her resolve crumble right there on the spot and tell him anything and everything he wanted to know. But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. Instead, she picked up her steps again, leaving him to follow behind.

  “This is where I turn,” she said, indicating the red dirt drive that led to her brother’s house. A white fence lined the property, and the sight had never been more welcome. Ahead she could still make out the boys, Samuel’s bright red head among them as they made their way home.

  She nodded down the road they’d been traveling. “About half a mile, you’ll reach my elders’ haus. Gut dawk to you, Zane Carson.” She turned down the drive and didn’t look back.

  Zane watched her walk down the road, behind the children. As far as he knew he hadn’t done a thing to warrant her antagonism toward him. But whenever he was around she acted like he was the Big Bad Wolf who had come to eat her up.

  Maybe she was naturally suspicious, maybe she had been hurt by a man before, or maybe she didn’t trust him because he was an outsider. He remembered the sisterly affection he’d witnessed between Katie Rose and Annie. She didn’t have any trouble with that Englisher.

  Maybe she just doesn’t like you, Carson.

  He should tell her that he had a fiancée waiting at home. Almost fiancée, he corrected himself. Maybe if she knew he was practically engaged to another she would trust him a little more—not stare at him like he was an ax murderer in Amish clothing.

  He hadn’t realized that the oldest and the father were neighbors. Yet out in the country like this, he knew “neighbor” was a loose term.

  He hooked his thumbs through his suspenders and glanced down at his feet. He was going to have to do something about these pants. And while he was at it, get that suspicious light of mistrust out of Katie Rose’s green eyes. How was he supposed to get a good look at the school if she wouldn’t let him within three feet of her?

  That was the only reason he cared. Truly, the only reason.

  He smiled to himself and continued on his way to the Fishers’.

  The chickens were fed, the cows milked, and he had helped Annie and Ruth pick the last of the tomatoes from the garden. Now it was time to put his plan to befriend Katie Rose Fisher into place.

  Zane dusted off the knees of his ugly Amish pants and knocked on the door. He was surprised no one had already come out onto the porch, considering the ruckus the dogs made, barking at him as if he were a rabid vacuum cleaner salesman.

  Yet nothing stirred inside the rambling, white house. There were no curtains on the windows, something he was beginning to think was part of the Amish culture, so he peeked through the glass. He made a mental note to a
sk about window coverings at the next opportunity. The inside looked quiet and dark. Dark he could attribute to the lack of electricity, but quiet? With six kids? That could only mean one thing—no one was home.

  So much for his brilliant plan, but it wasn’t like he could call first. Now he’d have to get John Paul to take him into town to pick up his computer and his cell phone from the charging station at the general store.

  He sighed and made his way back down the steps. Oh well, the walk had been good for him. The fresh air, too. In fact, there was a lot about this trip that had been good for him. In the barely three days that he had been here, his shoulder had started to limber up. Evidently the Amish Farm Workout was proving to be better than organized, paramilitary physical therapy.

  Zane rolled his shoulder to test the range and was pleased with the results. By the end of his three months in Oklahoma he’d be more than ready for whatever awaited him in Mexico.

  4

  Somehow—maybe by the grace of a higher power—he’d made it into town and back in the front seat of John Paul’s rattletrap of a Ford.

  Zane dropped his laptop bag on the bed and fished his phone out of his pocket. He was long overdue to call Monica. She’d probably think he’d forgotten all about her. Knowing her, she’d expect more attention during this trip since he was barely six hundred miles away, but assignment meant work, no matter the distance. He had to keep focused on the task at hand and not get distracted. The sooner he finished here, the sooner he’d be on his way across the border. After the wedding, of course.

  He punched up his phone book, and scrolled through the contacts until he found her name.

  She answered on the second ring. “Hi, darling.”

  He smiled at the sound of her cultured tones, hating that he compared them to the gentle German-country twang of Katie Rose. And Ruth and Mary Elizabeth. Annie was the only one who didn’t sound like a cross between a good-natured hillbilly and a German scientist.