Her Restless Heart Part 24

Just in time. He didn't think he could be trusted not to cross the line from friend to someone who wanted more from her.

"It's letting up," he said. "Where shall I drop you?"

"I can't go into work like this," she said. "If you could take me home, I'll change and call a driver."

"I'll wait for you and give you a lift into town. I'm picking up some supplies for planting."

"Spring planting's coming soon, hmm?"

He nodded. "I can't wait."

A short time later, they pulled up in front of her grandmother's house. Raindrops clung to the gra.s.s that was coming to life after the winter. The air was swept clean.

Jacob was glad that the faint scent of flowers from Mary Katherine's shampoo left the buggy with Mary Katherine.

She was back quicker than he expected, having changed into a dress the color of morning glories, her hair still a bit damp but parted and neatly done under a fresh organdy kapp tucked under her black bonnet.

Another buggy rolled past, and a man leaned forward to look into theirs.

Mary Katherine made a face as she climbed inside. "Ugh. Did you see who that was?"

"No, who?"

"The bishop."

Jacob shrugged. "Well, he didn't see anything to be concerned about. I waited in the buggy for you. We didn't go inside."

So why did he feel the tips of his ears burn? No matter what he thought, he hadn't acted on it. That was what was important. Right?

Pulling his hat lower on his head, he checked the road and got the buggy rolling along toward town.

Mary Katherine thought about the bishop frowning at them as he pa.s.sed.

Nothing had happened, just like Jacob had said. He hadn't gone into the house. Hadn't done anything inappropriate in the buggy.

But he kept giving her sideways looks . . . looks that she'd have to be really un.o.bservant to miss.

She had to admit that she looked at him sometimes. She might have said she wanted to be only friends with him because she felt so restless, so conflicted.

But Jacob was a handsome man, one whom she'd watched grow from a cute boy that other girls had flirted with in schul and at singings, to the man who'd expressed interest in her not that long ago.

And he was the man who had-despite what she'd said- agreed to be her friend, and she was beginning to realize she felt closer to him than anyone else.

He glanced over at her now, and she saw the warmth in his eyes. No, it was more than the warmth of friendship. She'd never seen desire in a man's eyes, but she recognized it now.

The buggy suddenly seemed to be smaller, warmer . . . more intimate.

Her emotions were on a roller coaster. She'd gone from being rudely awakened to shouting at her father to being rescued from a thunderstorm by Jacob. And he was giving her looks that were those of a man who wanted something from her that was deeper, more-so much more-than friendship.

She shouldn't be surprised. He'd been honest with her in the beginning about wanting more but had accepted her saying she wanted only friendship. Maybe, though, he hadn't been honest with himself.

He glanced to the left when a car pa.s.sed them, then he focused on the road ahead. She studied his profile, and her gaze settled on his mouth. Had he ever kissed a girl? she wondered.

Stop that! she told herself sternly. You're not supposed to be thinking about things like that.

But has he?

She'd never kissed a boy, of course. And it wasn't just because she hadn't found any of the boys to her liking.

Who wanted to take the chance of falling in love with someone and marrying and then finding that he'd turn into a tyrant like her father was? Because she was sure that he- her father-hadn't started out that way. She didn't think her mother would have married him if he'd been that way as a young man.

What had her parents been like as young people-the age she was right now, the age that Jacob was?

This is what made things so hard for her . . . you had to be so sure of things, and that's the last thing she was. You had to be sure you wanted to join the church because if you changed your mind afterward, you were shunned in this community. If you married in the Amish church, it was forever. Forget divorce. It just wasn't done.

How could you be sure of anything when decisions were so big and the consequences huge?

She jumped when Jacob touched her hand. He reddened and pulled it back.

"Don't let what happened upset you."

She realized that he meant the argument with her father.

"I'm not."

"Schur you are. I know you."

He said it so confidently. It must be nice to be that way, she thought. The only time she really felt that she knew what she was doing, knew who and what she was, was when she sat in front of her loom.

She couldn't wait to get back to it. She did her best thinking when she worked on it, and it wasn't just thinking about the pattern. Jacob had told her once that walking the rows in his fields made him feel connected to the people in his past and to the G.o.d in his present. When she ran her hands over the fibers, she felt closer to the person she'd become this year since she broke free of her life at her parents' house.

Maybe this time as she sat before her loom she'd see if she could talk to G.o.d.

And maybe He'd listen to her.

The "Closed" sign was still on the door when Mary Katherine got to the shop.

Funny, it felt like so many hours had pa.s.sed since she'd argued with her father.

She unlocked the door, and as she walked inside, her grandmother came from the back room.

"Why, Mary Katherine, I didn't expect to see you today." Leah welcomed her with a hug.

"I didn't expect to come in today." She stepped back. "Grossmudder, I can't go back to my parents' house. I can't!"

"I know."

"My father was just-" she stopped. "Wait a minute. What do you mean you know?"

"I stopped by to check on Miriam not long after you left." She sighed. "Have you had breakfast, child?"

Mary Katherine felt like pouting. "No. And Mamm was making French toast when I left. My favorite."

Leah patted her cheek and smiled. "I'll make you some for breakfast tomorrow. In the meantime, let's go to the back room and you can have what I brought for lunch."

Mary Katherine told her what had happened over a tuna salad sandwich.

"I'm not sorry for what I said," she told her grandmother as she rose to get a soft drink from the refrigerator. "But I don't like that it got my mother upset."

She sank into her chair and rolled the can in her hands. "I wish I hadn't gone off angry. Now I have to go back and get my things. I'd just leave my clothes, but I was working on some pillows for an order."

Sighing, she popped the top on the can and took a sip. "Well, it serves me right for getting angry. I was trying so hard not to say or do anything until Mamm was well enough for me to leave."

"Like mother, like daughter."

"What?"

"That's what your mother's been doing for years. Keeping the peace."

"Are you saying it's wrong to keep the peace?"

Leah leaned over and picked up the cookie jar. She took off the lid and offered the contents to Mary Katherine.

"The Bible tells us to submit to our husbands, but that doesn't mean ill treatment. Your mother let your father rule the house like a tyrant."

She closed her eyes as if she was in pain, and then she opened them. "But even when she was willing to accept that treatment, it doesn't mean he should extend that to his child."

Mary Katherine reached over to cover her grandmother's hand with hers. "It's the best thing that ever happened to me. The day you invited me to come work here, and to live with you."

Leah smiled. "It was a very good day for me, too." Her smile faded, and her expression grew troubled. "I wanted you to be happy, to do the kind of work you have such a talent for. But you're still restless, still . . . feeling unloved, aren't you?"

"I'm not-" Mary Katherine began.

But her grandmother's words rang true. So true. Her shoulders sagged as she acknowledged the truth.

Her grandmother reached to clasp her hands. "I'm sorry that your father never loved you the way you needed, and in her not speaking up you felt abandoned by your mother, too. But I think you're forgetting something, dear one. I think you're forgetting Whose child you are."

"I'm the child of Isaac and Miriam."

Leah smiled slightly. "You're G.o.d's child, dear one. If He loves you, how can you feel unloved?"

She shook her head. "If He loves me, why didn't he make my parents show me more love? Why didn't He take me away sooner?" There was ingrat.i.tude in her voice, but she didn't care.

A noise drew their attention. Anna and Naomi appeared in the doorway.

"Mary Katherine! I didn't know you were coming in today!" Naomi cried, rushing forward to throw her arms around her.

"It's good to see you," Anna exclaimed, making it a group hug.

Mary Katherine met her grandmother's gaze over the shoulders of her cousins. "Ya, we love you, and He loves you, too."

Her mother was sitting on the front porch when she arrived that evening.

Mary Katherine climbed the stairs, sat in the rocking chair next to her mother, and watched her st.i.tching closed the top of one of her pillows.

"You didn't have to do that."

"I'm enjoying it," her mother said. "It feels good to be doing something." She knotted the thread and snipped the ends with a pair of scissors.

Holding up the pillow, she brushed at a stray thread and smiled. "Beautiful pattern. Maybe I could commission you to make me a couple of them for the living room?"

Taking the pillow from her, Mary Katherine looked it over. "You have the neatest st.i.tching. I can never do this kind of job. How about we make a deal? I weave the pattern and you a.s.semble the pillows? It sure would speed up the process."

Her mother held out her hand. "Deal."

Mary Katherine tucked the pillow into the carryall with the other completed one.

"So this is what you were doing after all the cooking and housework and taking care of me was done for the day."

"It was relaxing."

Her mother snorted. "Schur."

"Where is Dat?" Mary Katherine asked, casting a glance around.

"He's gone to talk to Abe Yoder." Miriam set her chair rocking. "I think he needs to talk to another man after the women pecked at him today, don't you?" She turned and grinned.

She hadn't realized her face had been stiff until her mother's words. .h.i.t her and she laughed. It felt like the tension in her face was cracking.

Her mother's grin faded. "I shouldn't joke about it. It's not respectful." But her grin reappeared. "I gave him an earful after you stormed off." She paused and looked thoughtful. "Hmm, stormed off . . . in a storm."

Mary Katherine grimaced. "Bad pun. And I got really cold and wet. That'll teach me to do such a thing."

Her mother rocked and stared off into the distance. "You were right to stand up for yourself today." Glancing at Mary Katherine, she nodded. "Your father told me what he said to you and what you said to him." She sighed. "I know that you young women think some of us older wives are-what's the term?"

"Doormats?"

Miriam winced. "Yes. Doormats. In trying to do as the Bible says and submit to our husbands, well, sometimes maybe we lean too much into our own understanding, ya?"

Mary Katherine thought about Miriam's words, remembering how the Bible said not to lean into your own understanding . . .

"Well, it's done, and maybe your father will think on what we've both said. I'm hoping that he knows that if we didn't love him we wouldn't try to help him understand he can be a better man if he changes a little."

"I don't know," Mary Katherine said. She gestured at the table between them. "I'm afraid I think Dat's like that table. He can't change."

"Well, I believe in miracles," Miriam said, looking more serene than Mary Katherine had ever seen her. "If I didn't, I might not have stayed with your father all these years in spite of what the Ordnung says about marriage and divorce."

She smiled as she watched the wind ruffle the purple spears of the hyacinths Jacob had planted a few feet from where they were sitting on the porch. "Maybe you need to believe in the miracle of love yourself, ya?"