Bygones (10 page)

He had been so certain when he pulled into the yard he would find other vehicles here—family members come to assist in unloading the women’s things and getting them settled. Her parents and siblings knew she was back. He’d made sure he told all of them after she called on Saturday. So where were they? Indignation built in his chest at their standoffish behavior. Had J.D. Koeppler forgotten the parable of the prodigal son? Where was Marie’s hug of welcome, the fatted calf?

“I have nothing more important than helping you right now,” he insisted, offering a smile to let her know he meant it.

“Have him show you how to start the stove,” Beth inserted, “or I’m heading down the highway until I find a McDonald’s.”

Henry kept his smile aimed at Marie. “I’m afraid it would be a lengthy drive. Salina and Newton are the closest towns with fast food, and they’d both seem pretty far away when you’re hungry.” He stepped around Marie, heading for the stove. “Did you try to light a burner?”

“Yes.” She leaned against the doorframe. “I do remember how to start a propane stove. When it wouldn’t light I just assumed it was out of propane.”

He nodded. “I turned it off at the valve. I didn’t want propane leaking into the house.” With a heave, he tugged the stove forward a few inches. The feet screeched against the linoleum floor, and Beth covered her ears. He sent her an apologetic smile. “Sorry.” Reaching behind, he found the valve and gave a few twists. Then he pushed the stove back into place. “Hand me a match, please.”

Beth removed a match from the tin matchbox holder hanging above the sink and gave it to him. He twisted the knob to start the front left burner. A hiss let him know gas crept through the lines. He struck the match, held it to the burner, and was rewarded by a circle of blue flame.

“Hurray!” Beth clapped her hands. “Okay, Mom, I’ll have eggs over easy and toast.”

Marie and Henry exchanged grins. Marie said, “Then Henry had better start the oven.”

“Oven?” Beth pulled her brows low. “For eggs and toast?”

Henry’s lips twitched with amusement as Marie explained.

“For the toast. I’ll have to put the bread under the broiler—we can’t plug in a toaster, you know.”

The girl’s eyes rolled upward in a manner Henry had witnessed from his nieces. He turned his back and opened the ice chest, pretending to hunt for an egg carton, before he let loose the chuckle that pressed at his chest.

“Isn’t there some way to get electricity here?” Beth pulled out a kitchen chair and sat. “I saw power lines in town, so
somebody
has power.”

“Many of our residents have electricity,” Henry said. “None of our Amish neighbors do, but nearly all of the Mennonites have chosen to use it.”

Marie lifted Lisbeth’s iron skillet from the drawer in the bottom of the stove and set it on the burner. Moving to dig through one of the boxes, she glanced at him. “Well, then, how hard would it be to have an electrical line run to the house for this former Mennonite’s use?”

The words “former Mennonite” pinched Henry’s heart. He was glad Lisbeth didn’t hear it—it offered proof that Marie had fully released her childhood faith. He watched Marie pour a scant amount of oil into the pan and spread it around with a metal spatula. “The line to the house would be simple. Wiring the whole house to receive the current would be the hard part.”

Marie grimaced, her lips pooching into an adorable pout. “Of course. How foolish of me.” She broke eggs into the skillet and a cheerful
sizzle
sounded. “I’m sorry, honey, but we’re going to have to put up with things the way they are. It hardly seems worth the expense and effort to wire the whole house for three months.”

Henry ducked his head at Marie’s blithe words.

“But won’t we get a better price for the house if it’s wired for electricity?” the girl argued.

Marie sent her daughter a frown. “That’s an expense we don’t need right now, Beth. Let the next owners worry about it.”

Beth sighed. “Oh, all right. But don’t plan on me hanging around
here much. I’ll spend my days at the café, where at least I can access the Internet and listen to a radio.” Another sigh released. “No television for three months. Torture!”

Marie laughed, but Henry thought it sounded strained. He looked at Beth. “I’m sure you’ll stay busy enough with the café that you won’t miss television too much. But if you need entertainment—”

“Oh, please!” Beth held up both palms as if warding off a blow. “Don’t tell me there’s cow-milking and corn-shucking contests!”

Marie spun around, her face flaming. “Beth!”

The girl’s wide, blue eyes blinked in innocence. “What? It was just a joke.”

Turning back to the stove, Marie flipped the eggs, but her lips remained set in a grim line.

Henry glanced between the two before completing his statement. “Once or twice a month, the young unmarried people of our community rent the skating rink in Newton and spend the evening there. Maybe you’d like to join them. You could get to know your cousins that way.”

Beth opened her mouth. Marie shot a warning look in her direction. The girl closed her mouth for a moment, her eyes sparking, then gave Henry a sweet smile. “I’ll give that some thought.”

“Butter the bread, Beth. The eggs are done.” Marie scooped eggs onto plates and put them on the table. “Henry, would you like me to fix you an egg, too?”

“No, thanks.” Henry backed up to get out of Beth’s way as she bustled across the kitchen with a loaf of bread and a butter knife in her hand. He reached into the ice chest and pulled out the butter tub.

“Thanks.” Beth took the butter and sat at the table.

Henry remained near the doorway, waiting until Marie sat next to Beth. They didn’t pray before they picked up their forks. He cleared his throat. “Tell you what, while you eat, I’ll empty the rest of your trailer.”

Marie half stood, holding her hand toward him. “You don’t need to do that.”

He waved at her. “It’s not a problem. There doesn’t seem to be much left. Sit for a while. You’ve earned it.” He hurried out the door before she could offer another argument.

Most of the boxes left in the trailer were labeled either
M
OM
or
B
ETH
. Those with
M
OM
, he stacked outside Lisbeth’s bedroom; those with
Beth
outside the sewing room. The few with no label he left on the utility porch. With each journey between trailer and house, his frustration with Marie’s family grew. Why hadn’t any of them shown up to help?

Based on J.D.’s scowling response when he’d been informed his long-lost daughter was on her way, Henry wasn’t surprised that Marie’s father wasn’t here. But neither her brother, Art, nor her sister, Joanna, had responded negatively. In fact, he was sure Joanna’s eyes had lit with happy expectation. So where were they?

He put the last box on the utility porch, then returned to the trailer to close it. After snapping the latch into place, he turned and found Marie standing a few feet away. The morning sun slanted across her face, highlighting her creamy complexion and bringing out the strands of gold in her tousled nutmeg curls. She looked tired.

“Do you have to take the trailer back today?” he asked, to keep from asking something more personal.

“Yes. By noon to avoid another day’s rent. But I only have to take it Newton, so I have time yet.”

He nodded, then lowered his gaze. They stood silently for a few minutes. He shifted his foot, digging his toe into the dirt. Head still down, he said, “I can unpack some boxes for you if you’d like.”

“No. No, you’ve done plenty.”

He glanced at her. She met his gaze directly. A shy smile played on the edges of her lips. “Did you fix up that bed for Beth?”

“Yes.”

“That was very thoughtful. Thank you.”

He shrugged. “It wasn’t so much. Just a cot and some bedding I found in Lisbeth’s linen closet.”

“The quilt—”

“—was on top of the stack,” he said, watching the toe of his boot make an indention in the dirt. “I hope it was all right.”

A slight sigh sounded. He sensed disappointment, and he thought he understood the reason for it. She needed remembrances from someone. But it was better if they didn’t come from him. She needed her family.

Backing up a step, he waved at his car. “I’d better get out of your way so you can get this trailer out of here.”

“Thank you again, Henry. For everything.”

He read gratitude in her fervent gaze. Swallowing, he nodded. “You’re welcome. Oh!” Digging in his pocket, he retrieved a key ring and held it out to her. “This is for the café. The key with a number one on it unlocks the front door, two unlocks the back door, and three is for the storage closet inside.”

She took the ring and fingered each key in turn, seeming to examine the numbers etched into the metal. Eyes downcast, she said, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Have a good day, Marie. And welcome home.”

Her cheeks flooded with pink, and she ran her hand through her curls. He was sure he saw a glint of tears before she blinked and the shimmer disappeared. “Thanks. You have a good day, too.”

She turned and headed back toward the porch, her shoulders slumped. Henry slid behind the steering wheel and shook his head. Before he went to his shop, he had another errand to run.

B
eth looked up when her mom returned to the kitchen. Wordlessly, Mom dropped a silver key ring next to Beth’s plate, the keys sending out a subtle
ting
as they hit the table. Beth picked them up and turned in her chair to follow her mother’s progress to the sink, where she washed her hands.

“What are these for?”

“The café. Front door, back door, and storage closet.”

Beth smirked, dangling the ring from one finger. “Oh. So they don’t keep the café’s keys under the doormat?”

Mom offered a weak smile in response. Drying her hands on her pant legs, she faced Beth. “I’ve got to take the trailer to the rental place in Newton. I can drop you off at the café with your computer so you can get started trying to connect to the Internet. No guarantees you’ll find anyone who will provide service here, but I’d think at least one of the dial-up companies would be able to help you.”

Beth rose slowly, holding out her hand to indicate the unpacked boxes. “Don’t you want me to stay here and get this mess cleaned up?”

Mom shrugged. “We can do that this evening. I know you feel cut off from the outside world. Wouldn’t having Internet connection help?”

Beth bounced across the floor and gave her mother a hug. “You’re the best, Mom! Thanks.”

Mom returned the hug, then set Beth aside. “Yeah, well, you’ll be rethinking that this evening when I’m cracking the whip to get all this stuff put away.”

Beth laughed and followed her down the hallway to the bathroom. Mom picked up her hairbrush from the edge of the oldfashioned porcelain sink and ran it through her locks, creating some semblance of order.

“Seems kind of silly to get it all put away when we won’t be here that long,” said Beth.

Mom sent a brief scowl in Beth’s direction. “I will not live out of boxes—not even for three months. While we’re here, we might as well make things as homey as possible.”

Beth shrugged. “Whatever. Should I change before going to the café? Do you think anyone will be offended by my stunning attire?” She struck a pose in her long-sleeved T-shirt and trim-fitting blue jeans.

Mom quirked her brow, her lips twitching. “I doubt anyone will stop in. It’s never been open on Mondays. Besides, you should do whatever feels comfortable.”

Beth tugged at the hem of her shirt. “This is comfortable.”

“Okay, then.” Mom moved past her to her bedroom and came out again, purse in hand. “Grab your laptop.”

“And my boom box!”

Mom shook her head, chuckling. “Let’s go.”

An hour later Beth had put the café’s telephone to good use by arranging service with an Internet provider that was delighted to finally have someone from Sommerfeld as a customer. They guaranteed she’d be up and running by the middle of the week. Her cell phone was recharging, and her boom box provided background
noise. Her telephone calls done, she puttered around the café, becoming acquainted with her new property.