Her Restless Heart Part 11

Startled, she glanced at her cousin. "Stop what?"

"You keep sighing. What's wrong?"

"He's here. No, don't look!" she hissed when Naomi looked over at the men.

"But I thought you liked him."

"You're looking at the wrong man."

"Oh."

"Help me avoid him."

"I'm not going to do that."

"What kind of cousin are you?"

Naomi opened her mouth, but when she received a quelling look from one of the older women, she shut it.

The second the service was over, Mary Katherine was up like a shot. Now all she had to do was grab her coat and sneak out.

"Mary Katherine, I'd like to talk to you."

She felt herself cringe at the voice behind her. A familiar voice. A voice-or rather, a person-she'd hoped to avoid.

Turning, she forced her stiff lips to smile. "Bishop Yoder. It's gut to see you."

He nodded but didn't return her smile. "You as well. Shall we step out onto the porch and talk?"

"I'll get my coat."

Worship services were being held in the Stoltzfus home. Suddenly cold, she slipped into the nearby bedroom, found her coat, and pulled it on. Grabbing her purse, she headed out to the porch. But her feet slowed as she approached the front door, and she stalled and stood in the doorway, trying to gather her nerve.

The bishop was standing there in a corner of the porch, his back to her. He wore a black felt hat with a wide brim, and his gaunt form was clad in a black overcoat. A cold wind sent the edges of his open coat flapping.

Mary Katherine hurried outside. He was old-it seemed to her that he had always looked old and wrinkled-and she had no wish for him to get chilled. And the sooner she got it over with, the better.

When he heard her footsteps, he turned and regarded her, looking at her over wire-rimmed gla.s.ses. His scraggly beard was almost completely white and flowed to the middle of his chest. He stroked it as the men in the community often did, looking thoughtful.

"I'm glad to see that you're still attending services," he said. "I know you've been reluctant to get baptized."

"As is my right until I am sure," she told him politely.

"Ya. When do you think you'll be ready?"

He was smiling, his mouth visible inside his crinkly long beard, but the smile didn't reach his cold blue eyes.

"I don't know."

"Child, I want to help you. I've known you since you were born. Tell me why you feel you can't commit to joining."

How could she explain to him what she didn't understand herself? Searching for words, she became aware that people were leaving the house now, heading home, walking just a few feet away.

Mary Katherine noticed that Hilda, a woman known as a gossip, didn't bother to hide her curiosity as she walked past.

She held onto her temper. "I'm not doing anything wrong."

"I've heard things in the community," he said in a disapproving tone. "You're not running around and being wild, but you are a.s.sociating with an Englischer who looks . . . unusual."

"Jamie's a nice girl," Mary Katherine rushed to say in her defense. "Don't blame her for my hesitation. She's been a good friend to me."

"But instead of going to youth activities in our community, you're staying at her apartment in town."

"Are you listening to gossip, Bishop?"

He frowned. "I've never known you to be disrespectful, Mary Katherine."

"I'm not being disrespectful," she insisted. "I-"

"This is why I don't encourage friendship with some Englischers," he interrupted, overriding what she was saying. "The Bible says, 'Be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers: for what fellowship hath righteousness with unrighteousness? And what concord hath Christ with Belial?' "

She held on to her temper by the skin of her teeth. "Just because someone is Englisch and her hair and clothing is a little unusual-"

"Unusual? That's what you call it?"

"She's making a design statement."

He gave a snort of derision.

That riled her. "Well, she's creative, and she's just expressing it. She's a nice person, and I'm not ashamed to be seen with her."

His eyes hardened. "You're different than you used to be. Maybe it wasn't a gut thing that you moved out of your family's house."

Mary Katherine drew herself up and stared him down. "If my grandmother hadn't gotten me out of there when she did, I'd have left long ago and never come back. And the way I am now? I'm proud of the person I've become with her help."

Turning, she blinked away angry tears and ran down the steps. There was no way she wanted to go inside and upset her grandmother.

A hand touched her arm and she shoved it away and turned. "Leave me alone-" she stopped and stared not into the bishop's face but Jacob's.

"I called to you, but you didn't hear me. Are you all right? What did he say to upset you?"

She swiped at her tears with her hands. "Just the same old thing: When am I going to join the church?"

"Is that all?"

"That's not enough?" she demanded.

He shook his head. "No," he said. "I don't think that was all of it. That wouldn't make you cry."

Biting at her lip, she shrugged and began walking again.

"Where are you going?"

"I need to walk. I don't want to go into the house and get my grandmother upset."

"Mary Katherine, wait!"

She stopped and looked at him, impatient. "What?"

"Let me drive you home. I'll go tell your grandmother I'm taking you home."

Standing there, her feet in the snow, she realized how cold she was. She'd been so angry she hadn't noticed until now. There was no way she could walk all the way to her grandmother's house without freezing.

"Fine."

He turned but she reached out her hand to stop him. "I'm sorry, you're being kind, and that didn't sound very grateful of me."

"It's all right. You're upset."

"No, it's not all right," she said quietly. "I appreciate what you're trying to do."

"Let me go tell Leah, and then I'll be right back."

Leah was surprised when he told her that he was taking Mary Katherine home. But she simply nodded and thanked him and went back to talking to a friend as they enjoyed the light lunch served after the worship service.

He returned to Mary Katherine and found her standing in the same place and shivering hard. "Why didn't I tell you to wait in the barn out of the wind?" he said, shaking his head.

"I actually thought of it myself, but I decided not to. Some of the men are there. I didn't want to give them any more to talk about. Sometimes you men gossip more than women."

"We do not!"

She merely gave him a glance. "I'll wait here while you get the buggy, if you don't mind."

"I'll hurry."

When he returned, he could hear her teeth chattering, and he was glad he kept several blankets in the buggy. Reaching behind him, he grabbed a blanket and leaned over to flip it open to spread over her. But when he went to tuck it around her, he heard her indrawn breath and his gaze shot up to hers.

"I'll-I'll do that," she said, sounding a little breathless.

When she was finished tucking it around her feet and her lap, he handed her another blanket, and she wrapped it around her shoulders.

"Do you have to go straight home?" he asked her.

"No, why?"

"I thought maybe we could have lunch in town."

When she was silent, he glanced over at her. "What?"

"I'd think you arranged this but I know better."

He laughed. "You're right. The bishop isn't exactly a friend of mine." When she was silent, he looked over at her again. "Well?"

"I suppose we could."

"OW. Well, I can tell I've overwhelmed you with my offer." She stared at him, and then she laughed. "I'm sorry. I guess I could have been more enthusiastic. But it's not a date. Right? It's just friends having a meal."

He clutched his chest. "Just wound me more."

Mary Katherine elbowed him. "Stop!"

"Story of my life lately."

Then he realized he'd said it aloud. He shot a glance at her, hoping she hadn't heard him. But of course she had.

"Has some other woman made you feel she was . . . underwhelmed by your invitation recently?"

He focused on the road. "Not a woman. That is, not a woman in the sense you mean. It wasn't someone I asked out."

"I see."

Grinning, he shook his head. "No, you don't."

Instead of pressing him-her cousin, Anna, always the inquisitor, would have had a great time at it-Mary Katherine said nothing. Instead, she huddled in the blankets and stared out at the pa.s.sing scenery.

"Are you all right?" he asked finally. He'd never seen her so quiet. So troubled.

She turned to him. "I don't think I'm very good company today, Jacob. Maybe we should do this another time."

He checked to see if there were any cars following them and then pulled the buggy off to the side of the road. "I can take you home. But I'd like to be your friend, Mary Katherine."

"Why?" she asked him, her lips trembling, tears welling in her eyes.

"Because I care about you. I'm sorry now that I didn't walk out on that porch today and tell the bishop-"

"What did you hear him say?" she asked, straightening on the seat.

"I wasn't spying," he rushed to say. "I was about to walk out onto the porch when I saw the two of you, how unhappy he was making you. I wanted to do something to stop him, but I had no right-"

"No," she said slowly. Her eyes searched his. "No right. But I appreciate it. I appreciate it so much, Jacob." She bit her lip.

Without thinking, he reached out and stroked his forefinger across the fullness of her bottom lip. "Don't do that. Don't hurt yourself."

Her eyes went wide at his intimate touch, and he dropped his hand. "I'm sorry-"

"No, don't apologize. Jacob, I care about you, too. But don't you see that being friends is the only thing we can be right now? I'm so mixed up. I told you the bishop was asking me when I was joining the church-"

"I don't understand why you haven't," he interrupted. "You've seemed happier lately."