Her Restless Heart Part 32

Jamie stared at her and then she laughed. "So, the little Amish girl is starting to get her sense of humor back. That's a good sign. "

"I'm not little, but I'm an Amish girl," she said, grinning. "We'll see how it goes with the Amish boy when I talk to him. I don't intend to be a pushover just because I love the man."

"You go, girl!"

Anna came into the kitchen. "Have you guys eaten all the pizza?"

"Not even close. And there's ice cream in the freezer. I think we should celebrate, don't you?"

"Celebrate what?" Naomi asked as she put her empty plate in the sink.

"Mary Katherine taking cla.s.ses to join the church."

"Oh, I always knew she'd do it," Anna said airily.

"Oh, you did, did you?"

"Of course. What kind of ice cream?"

Jamie winked at Mary Katherine as she got up to look in the freezer. "There's Rocky Road and b.u.t.ter pecan."

"Rocky Road," said Anna.

"b.u.t.ter pecan," said Naomi.

"Mary Katherine?"

She grinned at Jamie and her cousins. "I think I'd rather have b.u.t.ter pecan than Rocky Road."

Jamie hugged her and handed her the carton of ice cream. "Smooth roads ahead, huh?"

"Ya," Mary Katherine said fervently. "Please, G.o.d, smooth roads ahead."

Her mother wasn't home when Mary Katherine stopped by.

She checked inside the house and the barn and discovered both her parents were gone. When she'd talked to her mother the day before, she hadn't said anything about plans, but then again, Mary Katherine hadn't said she was going to drop by.

She supposed that was what she got for a.s.suming that her mother was just waiting for a visit.

Disappointed, she bit her lower lip and decided to wait around a little while. As she sat in the rocker on the front porch, she thought about how she'd sat with Jacob on his porch and absorbed the serenity of his farm.

The plants he'd brought her mother were still ranged around the porch. The warming spring breeze brought the heavy sweet scent of the hyacinth drifting to her and made the yellow heads of the daffodils and narcissus nod.

It wasn't planting or harvesting she'd disliked or any of the work, really-well, she could be very happy if she never had to milk another cow. What she'd grown to hate was being under the harsh, overly critical scrutiny of her father.

Restless, she decided to make good use of her time. Going to the barn, she found a shovel and set about digging holes in the flowerbeds and planting the spring flowers.

A half hour later, all of the plants had been de-potted and set into the holes she'd dug, and the rich, fertile soil patted around them. She sat back on her heels, smiling at her work.

She turned at the sound of a buggy pulling into the drive. As the vehicle moved forward she blinked, when she saw that her father was in the front seat but it was her mother who held the reins.

Interesting. She didn't think she'd ever seen her mother drive the buggy when she was accompanied by her father.

Her mother stopped Ned, the horse, handed her husband the reins, and climbed out of the buggy. "Mary Katherine! I didn't expect you."

She stood, and her mother's eyes widened as she caught a glimpse of the flowers. "Why, look at what you've done!"

"I hope you don't mind."

Her mother kissed her cheek. "Of course not. I'll be busy enough with my kitchen garden soon."

"Did I put them where you wanted? Because I can move them-"

Miriam bent to touch the cheerful face of a purple pansy. "Don't you dare. They're perfect." She straightened. "Can you stay for supper?"

Mary Katherine shook her head. "Not tonight. I-" she brushed at the dirt on her hands. "I need to do something. Maybe another night."

"Well then, come inside and clean up. Leave the shovel and the pots. I'll have your father store it all away later." Her mother put her arm around Mary Katherine's shoulder to lead her inside.

"I have something to tell you first."

Miriam stopped walking and went very still, then turned and stared, stricken, at Mary Katherine. "What's wrong? Mamm?"

"Nee, she's fine."

"You." Her arm fell away from Mary Katherine's shoulder, and she sank down on the porch steps. "You've come to tell me that you're going to leave." Her lips trembled.

"Nee," Mary Katherine said, and she sank down on the steps beside her mother and took her cold hands in hers. "Just the opposite. I talked to the bishop about joining the church."

"You did what?" Her eyes wide, Miriam pressed her fingers against her lips, looking as if she was afraid of what she was hearing. "But I thought-"

"I took the advice of someone I know, and things started getting clearer. And I also didn't let the bishop keep me from where I belong."

Miriam threw her arms around her and hugged her. "Oh, thank you, G.o.d!" Tears flooded from her eyes. "I don't have to lose you."

Something moved in her chest. "You were afraid you'd lose me?"

Miriam nodded. "It was G.o.d's will that I had one kind, one precious daughter. I just didn't know how I'd bear it if-if-" Sobs shook her slender body as she searched the pockets of her dress for a tissue. Finding one, she wiped her eyes and took a shaky breath. "I feel like G.o.d's given me my daughter twice."

Mary Katherine felt a rush of guilt. Oh, she knew her mother loved her, but she'd been so caught up in her own feelings, she hadn't thought how her mother would feel if she left. She realized she'd thought of her mother as . . . her mother, not a person with her own fears and insecurities and wishes.

The front door opened. "Miriam, supper's ready-" He stopped when she turned and he saw her tears. "What's wrong?" He looked at Mary Katherine. "Have you upset your mamm?" he thundered.

Miriam jumped to her feet, and it must have been a case of too much, too soon, for she swayed on her feet. Isaac rushed down the steps and clasped her around the waist.

"No, no, I'm fine," she insisted.

After a long moment, he released her, but she stayed in the circle of his arms. "Our daughter here just told me she's joining the church. She's joining the church, Isaac!"

Their eyes met, father and daughter, and the glare faded from his. "Really?"

"Really," she said, nodding. She frowned when she remembered what the bishop had said about her father going to speak with him, but when she opened her mouth to say something, he shook his head, glanced at her mother, and then sent her a silent message.

They'd never communicated properly, but in that instant she understood that he didn't want to talk about it then because it would upset her mother.

"That's gut news," he said in his usual brusque tone.

So it wasn't the enthusiasm her mother had displayed. Well, her dat had never displayed emotion like her mamm. Sometimes, growing up, she'd wondered why she got the parents she had-well, parent, mostly. Her father was so harsh, so critical. If G.o.d truly loved her, why hadn't He given her a father who'd love her like He supposedly did? Didn't the Bible say we were made in His image?

And her mamm. She had always reminded Mary Katherine of a scared little mouse, scurrying around looking anxious about pleasing her mann.

"Mary Katherine says she can't stay for supper," Miriam was saying. "She has something she needs to do. Maybe someone she needs to see," she said coyly, glancing at her daughter. "She needs to wash up before she goes."

She debated telling her mother that she wasn't going to see Jacob-that they'd fought and she was hurting. He wasn't just the man she'd fallen in love with. He'd become her best friend.

Afraid she was going to burst into tears, she went into the bathroom to scrub her hands, and when she came out she found her parents discussing something in tense, hushed whispers.

"I just put Ned up," her father was saying.

"Well, get him out again. This is your daughter we're talking about," her mother hissed back. "I don't want her walking so far when it'll be dark soon."

Not wanting to appear to be eavesdropping, Mary Katherine made her steps heavier and louder so that her parents looked up and immediately stopped talking.

Sub sandwiches from a local shop were waiting on the table, and some of her mother's homemade soup sent out a delicious aroma as it heated.

Something felt very off here . . .

"Supper's ready," her father had said.

Okay, the sandwiches were bought, but the man who always said buying food out was a waste had obviously done so, and had set the table and warmed the soup while her mother sat on the porch with her.

What was going on?

"Your father is going to drive you where you need to go," her mother told her, lifting her chin.

Mary Katherine looked at her father and he nodded.

"I'll get Ned hitched up," he said in his usual brusque tone.

"You don't have to-"

"Your mother wants it that way," he told her, and he left them.

Since when had what her mother wanted mattered to him? Mary Katherine wondered. But she didn't say anything. After a long day at work she wasn't really interested in a long walk and didn't want to strap her budget even further than it was. When her mother had been recovering, Mary Katherine had often had to hire Nick or one of his cab and shuttle company's drivers to visit her at the hospital and then drive her home later.

Her mother impulsively hugged her, and then she cupped Mary Katherine's cheeks and gazed into her eyes. "Now, don't you two kill each other, all right?"

"I can't promise anything," Mary Katherine muttered.

She climbed into the buggy and sat as far from him as she could, wis.h.i.+ng the buggy was bigger. They rode in silence for a time, and then she turned to him.

"Why was Mamm driving earlier?"

He glanced at her, then back again at the road. "Said she wanted to."

"And supper. You were making supper, weren't you?"

"Never happy, are you? You wanted me to help, and when I do, you criticize." He frowned.

"Well, I am my father's daughter."

He pulled the buggy into a drive and turned to her. "What is that supposed to mean?"

She folded her hands on her lap and lifted her chin. "When I stopped by to see the bishop about joining the church, he told me that you went to him to complain about me."

"That," he said, calling to Ned and getting the buggy back on the road.

"That!" she sputtered. "That!"

"I didn't go to complain about you," he said after a moment. "I went to him for advice. After you stormed out."

"Advice? From him?" She huffed out a breath and shook her head. "I can just imagine what he said."

He lapsed into silence, and she sat there and seethed.

Jacob's farm came into view. It was almost halfway between her childhood home and her grandmother's-what had become home for her. That hadn't been lost on her. She'd once thought about how convenient it would be to visit both homes . . . although she'd imagined back then that there would be few visits from her parents-at least from her father.

At first she thought it was a trick of her imagination, the fact that the light was fading, that she saw Jacob walking his fields. Maybe she thought she saw him because she wanted to.

But as the buggy pa.s.sed the farm, she saw that it was, indeed, Jacob, standing there in his newly sown fields. Her fingers tightened on the window of the buggy as she saw that he stood there, gazing into the far distance.

Again, it had to be her imagination that he looked lonely. Perhaps it was just that she wanted to believe that he missed her as she missed him. He seemed so confident, so self-possessed, especially at home here on his farm he loved so much.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No!" she said quickly, wincing when the sound reverberated in the small buggy. "No," she told him in a quieter tone.

From the corner of her eye she saw Jacob turn and catch sight of the buggy. Their eyes met.

"Your mamm seemed to think you'd want to."

"Well, she was wrong." Mary Katherine stared straight ahead.

"He's waving to you."

"Doesn't matter."

He hesitated but kept the buggy rolling.