Love’s Journey Home (29 page)

Helen sighed and looked down at the pie in her hands. It had been a peace offering,
but now she saw that it could be construed as something else. What with Bethel Graber
prancing around with her pecan pie.

“Do you want to work on the kitchen or help the girls set up the bedrooms?” Bethel,
the picture of friendliness as always, bustled into the room. “Gabriel says they want
to get the beds made up so the little girls can take naps after dinner.”

“I’ll unpack in here so they’ll be able to make sandwiches and such.” Helen did her
best to sound equally friendly. She’d always liked Bethel. She taught her scholars
well, and the children flocked to her whenever they saw her. “You go ahead upstairs.”

After the other woman disappeared through the doorway, Helen surveyed the room. Like
most Plain folks, the Glesses owned a great number of kitchen utensils, necessary
for baking and cooking for their large broods, and for the moment they were all in
boxes. Best get started.

“Helen, can I ask you a question?”

She nearly jumped out of her skin, only realizing Isaac Gless stood behind her at
the sound of his voice. She turned around. “I thought I’d help your sisters unpack
the dishes and the pots and pans.”

“They can use your help. We have more stuff than I remember.” He moved through the
doorway. “I wanted to ask you something. It’s…of a private nature.”

Surprised, she felt her skin go hot again. It would get all red and blotchy, and he’d
know she was embarrassed. Her skin betrayed her every time. “Are you sure you don’t
want to ask your daed or Thomas when he comes back?”

“It’s not that kind of question.” Now his face had turned red. “This is…something
they can’t answer. Luke, maybe…but he’s gone for who knows how long.”

“What is it?”

“I…I wondered…Annie…well…” He took off his hat and bent the brim in his big hands.
“Has anyone been courting her?”

Helen surveyed the man. Tall, with his father’s features. Dark hair, nice eyes. He
was different from David, who’d been sick most of his adult life. Isaac had the build
of a man who worked hard and the demeanor of a man who enjoyed it. “Her husband died
a year ago. She’s taken her time in grieving, as she should.”

“I know that. It’s just that I took her for a buggy ride…”

“You took her for a ride.” Good news, indeed. So why didn’t he look happy? She picked
up a box filled with dishes wrapped in newspapers and placed it on the counter. “That’s
wunderbaar.”

“She didn’t seem to think so.” He looked as if he might pass out from the embarrassment.
“I thought maybe…She’s not courting anyone else, is she?”

“Nee, nee.” Helen hid her smile and began to unwrap the plates. Heavy, white, unadorned
china just like the ones she and George received as gifts after their wedding. She
remembered that feeling of knowing a new beginning hovered on the horizon. “No one.
She’s been waiting until she’s ready.”

“Ah,
gut
. She said that, but I…” His face flushed beet red.
“Gut.”

“That’s all I’ll say.”

“Jah!” He grinned, looking like a little boy for a brief second. “That’s enough.”

“Don’t you have more furniture to move?”

“Danki…for the advice on where to put the sofa. We’re no good at that stuff.”

“You should ask Abigail to oversee the placement of the furniture. She’ll know.”

His forehead wrinkled. “We didn’t think of that.”

“You should.” Helen placed a plate on the shelf and reached for another one. “It’s
her place in this house.”

Isaac seemed to think it over. Then he grinned. “For now.”

Then he slapped his hat back on his head, whirled, and disappeared through the doorway.

Helen stared at the spot where he’d stood. To be that young and hopeful. Gabriel strode
into her line of sight, so like his son that for a second she thought Isaac had returned.
His lined face and the dark circles under his eyes registered. Gabriel. His sleep
didn’t come easy, either. His gaze glanced off her. “I thought I’d get a glass of
water.” He squeezed past a stack of boxes by the prep table. “If we still have glasses.
The boys don’t seem to know how to handle with care.”

“I saw a box that had
glasses
written on the side.” Flustered for no reason at all, Helen rooted among the boxes.
She stubbed her toe on one and nearly toppled another. “I think this is it.”

“I can find it.”

“No, no, this is it.” She ripped off the packing tape and tugged the box open. “See,
they’re fine. They’re nicely wrapped in newspaper. I’m sure they’re fine.”

They reached for a wrapped glass at the same time. His hand brushed hers. “I can get
it.” He ducked his head, and his hat hid his expression. Helen wanted to see it. She
wanted to know if he had any inkling of what that touch did to her.
Stop it
.

He tugged the glass from the box and removed the newspaper with long, steady fingers.
“Laura bought these glasses at a yard sale back in Dahlburg.” He didn’t sound sad.
He sounded as if it were a nice memory that somehow cheered him. “They’ve held up
well.”

“She made a wise and frugal purchase, then.”

“She was both.” His hand gripped the glass, still suspended in the air between them.
His gaze met hers. “I’m surprised you’re here. After Sunday.”

“I wanted the opportunity to make amends for my son.”

“He needs to make his own amends.” Gabriel set the glass on the counter as if he’d
forgotten why he came into the kitchen. “He needs to learn to speak and act properly
for himself.”

“True and he will. In the meantime, neighbors help neighbors.” Helen took another
glass from the box and moved to the sink. She needed to put space between them. She
didn’t like him towering over her. At least that’s what she told herself. “In Bliss
Creek we help each other. I expect my children to learn that lesson too.”

“Then you’re also wise.” He smiled at her. Helen had to remind herself to close her
mouth. He had a nice smile. He should use it more. “Danki.”

This surprised her more than the smile. She groped for a response. “I’m sorry about
Edmond.”

“So am I. It must be hard for you.”

That he acknowledged this provided yet another surprise. “I want him to be a good,
Plain man.”

“What we all want for our children.”

“I talked to him. I told him he’s too young to court. That Abigail is too young.”

“Danki for trying to talk some sense into him.”

She busied herself by pulling a pitcher of water from the refrigerator. “Here, let
me get you some water. You still have much work to do.”

“Jah.”

He took the water from her, nodded, and left without another word. Helen sagged against
the counter, arms and legs weak as the tension drained from her. She didn’t recall
George ever having such an effect on her. With each encounter she became more and
more certain of her feelings for Gabriel and less and less certain of what to expect
from him. But as long as he didn’t trust Edmond, it didn’t matter. He would never
trust her either.

D
ay eight.

Annie thought of each day this way since Luke and the others had left. She slid the
hot bread from its pan and laid it on a rack to cool. Perhaps today would be the day
they returned. Luke had said five or six days. Day five had come and gone, as had
days six and seven. At the Sunday prayer service, the bishop told them he’d received
two phone calls from the men. One on day three, when they’d arrived in western Missouri
and another on day five, when they had stopped for the night in the southeastern part
of the state. They had decided to visit Arkansas as well. Beyond that, he shared little
of the conversation. Annie knew he’d call a meeting of the men later. Discussions
of land purchases and new districts weren’t for the prayer service. Instead, they
prayed for the well-being of the men and for a fruitful trip.

Unable to see her way through the morass of this problem, she set it aside. Immediately
her argument with Catherine rose in its place. Catherine sauntered about town talking
to Miriam, to Miriam’s daed, to Josiah, to Mark, to Mary Beth, and even to Rebecca.
She didn’t write anything in her notebook while she talked to them, but she scribbled
away while she sat at the table and drank cup after cup of kaffi and ate Annie’s cookies
by the handful. She always left money on the table, like a tip. Like Annie had served
as her waitress. She didn’t know whether it was meant to be a contribution to the
bakery as a business or if her sister didn’t want to assume any privilege that might
belong to a sister. She didn’t take any photos—at least not in Annie’s presence.

When Annie had voiced her misgivings and asked Catherine to leave them out of her
thesis and forego the memoir, Catherine had called her selfish. Called Annie selfish.
She snorted aloud, then looked around. No customers to hear. Catherine’s willfulness
reflected a deep selfishness, and her expression said she knew it. The argument didn’t
last long. Catherine simply swept up her things and departed without another word.

Annie rubbed the spot on her forehead just above the bridge on her nose. It continued
to throb in a steady
thump, thump
like a drum beating. With Luke gone, she couldn’t very well talk to him about Catherine.
He’d left without saying another word about their wayward sister. It didn’t matter.
She knew what he would say. Catherine should go home. Write her book or not write
her book, it was of no concern to them.

The door opened and in tromped Mayor Gwendolyn Haag. Despite the heat, she wore a
long-sleeved black blouse and black slacks. Her silver slip-on sandals were her only
accommodation to the heat. Behind her, a half-dozen women who frequented the bakery
at least once a week marched in. They milled around behind the mayor, their arms folded
over their chests, their stares indignant. Before Annie could speak, the mayor held
up a hand and glared.

“Is it true?”

“Is what true?” Annie looked at the other women. They clustered together by the waiting
benches. They didn’t seem intent on buying anything. “What can I do for you? The cinnamon
rolls are fresh, and I just put a pan of apple cookies in the oven. They’ll be out
in a jiffy.”

“Your community is leaving? You’re leaving Bliss Creek? All of you? Because of oil
on one farm? That’s ridiculous. Let Thomas Brennaman sell his farm and move on. You
don’t all have to go.” The shrill accusation in her tone made Annie’s ears ring. “How
could you make such a decision? Without telling anyone? Without giving us a chance
to win you back?”

“Win us back? I’m…I…” Annie stuttered. How had the mayor found out about the scouting
party? This had nothing to do with wanting to leave Bliss Creek. Far from it. “We’re
talking about…”

“Talking? Talking!” The mayor ran her long, painted fingernails through short, silver
hair. “Your men are in Missouri right now, looking for a new place to settle. I saw
your sister at the restaurant. She told me, so don’t try to prevaricate!”

“Prevari-what?”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I don’t lie.” Stung, Annie folded her towel and laid it on the counter. Then she
walked with deliberate care around it so she could face the mayor. “When did you talk
to Emma?”

“Not Emma. Your sister Catherine. Life in the real world agrees with her, by the way.
We had a lovely chat about her book and then she started asking me how the community’s
move would affect Bliss Creek economically.” The mayor’s voice started to rise again.
“I nearly fell out of my chair. It would be a disaster, an absolute disaster. I can’t
believe you people didn’t…”

Catherine had no business telling the mayor anything about the district’s intentions.
She’d truly forgotten her place.
You people
. A defensive response rose in Annie, but she managed to squelch it.
Her
people kept themselves apart from this town as much as possible but changing times
had led them to start businesses and work in town. The exchange benefitted both. “The
bishop hasn’t decided.” Annie kept her tone low. “None of us know what will happen.
We’re all waiting to see.”

“I want to meet with Bishop Kelp. With all of you. Today.”

The other women crowded around the mayor, nodding their heads, murmuring in agreement.
The murmur rose and swelled. “Yes, we want to meet with the bishop,” said Leila Cockrell,
a tall, skinny lady who looked like she’d never eaten a cookie in her life. “We need
this bakery. We need the tourists to come here. Our bed and breakfast depends on it.
So does the motel out on the highway. And Mr. Brewer’s tour bus. And the restaurants—Hometown
and the German place. We need to meet with the bishop. Immediately.”

“The bishop. That Micah Kelp. We want to talk to him,” added another woman who bought
a pecan pie every Friday for her husband who worked out of town and only came home
on the weekends. “Immediately, if not sooner.”

Immediately, if not sooner? How was that possible?

“Mayor, it’s not up to me.” Annie brushed past her and threaded her way through the
crowd to the table where she picked up a napkin a customer had dropped there. She
had work to do. If they didn’t plan to buy anything, they should leave. How did she
get them to leave? “Really, I don’t have any say in this, ladies. Please, just wait
until we know…”