Keeping Secrets (14 page)

“No, no, I’m not just being kind. You did a wonderful job.”

From that day on, Anna flourished. Her confidence in her ability to drive Paris steadied both horse and driver. And when Anna finally took Paris down the drive, the horse flicked her ears only when Anna slammed the lever forward and the old brakes screeched.

They trotted Paris down the road, passersby waving and turning to watch. Anna sat straight, waved, and smiled. Sadie knew the buggy rides would be a hit with the sale patrons. And they’d do wonders for Anna’s confidence.

The day of the consignment sale turned out to be cloudy in the morning. Sadie ran to the window countless times to see if the gray clouds were churning with darker ones that promised rain. Finally, she walked outside, licked her forefinger, and held it up to the breeze, which was very slight. But she could still feel the difference, the side to the west drying quicker.

Yes! It would not rain today. A few sprinkles or scattered showers, perhaps, but not a pelting rain with no let up.

She dressed quickly. The new pale-blue dress shimmered over her shoulders as she put it on. It was a beautiful color, a happy one, if there was such a thing, she thought. She pinned her apron quickly and gave her appearance a final check in the mirror. She grabbed her purse off the oak clothes tree in her room and hurried down the stairs.

She was alarmed to meet Anna, who averted her tear-stained face as she busily tied her shoes, sniffing quietly. Mam was wrapping chocolate shoofly pies in Saran Wrap, thoroughly flustered. Dat hitched Charlie to the sparkling clean surrey outside.

Ach, my, Anna, Sadie thought.

“What’s wrong with Anna?” she whispered to Mam.

Mam turned to look, saw Anna’s face and asked, “Anna, why are you crying?”

“I’m not.”

Mam shrugged her shoulders, wrapped another pie, and quickly slid it into the pie rack, a homemade tower with 12 shells surrounded by screen, with a door and a handle on top. It was the easiest way to transport 12 pies in a buggy, or any vehicle for that matter.

After they left, Sadie caught Anna’s eye and raised her eyebrows in a silent invitation to spill her sadness. Immediately, Anna’s chin quivered.

“My dress is too tight, Sadie. I look so awful. It’s… I look like a pale blue elephant!”

The last word was drawn out on a wail of despair, the self-hatred so evident you could taste it, a horrible metallic taste of untruth wrapped around Anna’s conscience until it eliminated all rational thinking.

How? How did a person go about correcting this?

Sadie put one arm around Anna’s soft shoulders and slid two fingers inside the belt of her apron. She assured Anna that there was room to spare, and whatever made her think the dress was too tight?

“Everything I wear is too tight,” Anna said, shrugging Sadie’s hand off her shoulder.

Standing before the bathroom mirror, Anna burst out in another long, drawn-out exclamation of disgust.

“My hair! I hate my hair.”

“Anna, stop.”

Sadie was firm, standing behind her, finding her gaze in the mirror.

“No! Look at me! I’m a fat ugly … toad. My hair isn’t right.”

“Anna, come. Sit down.”

Sadie told her God made her unique, according to His will, and it was wrong to think of yourself in such a harmful way. These thoughts were of the devil, and eventually, she would believe them, which could cause harmful behavior, like anorexia or bulimia.

“What’s that?” Anna asked, wide-eyed.

“I’ll explain it sometime. Driver’s here!”

The Orvie Bontrager farm was a kaleidoscope of color and movement. Vehicles crept along the driveway and parked in fields and ditches. Children ran about in bright colors, constantly changing the scenery—a red dress here, a green shirt there, yellow straw hats bobbing along on little heads, sticky little fingers clutching colorful candy.

The auctioneer’s cry rose and fell as he sold horses and surreys, ponies, sheep, goats, pigeons in cages, a litter of kittens. The crowd pressed close, eager to hear the bidding.

Sadie and Anna went to find Paris. They had decided to bring the horse down the evening before to familiarize her with the throng of people, vehicles, and other animals. When she saw Anna and Sadie, she nickered a good morning, shoving her nose into Anna’s palm for her usual treat of an apple, a carrot, or a few sugar cubes.

“How was your night? You didn’t like it down here, did you?” Sadie whispered.

Anna nudged Sadie’s elbow. “Look who’s here!”

Mark Peight was striding purposefully in her direction, a broad grin on his handsome face.

“Hello! What are you doing with Paris here?” he asked.

Sadie struggled to keep the anger from taking control of her tongue. If you’d date me the way normal guys do instead of storming out of a dining room and then coming to throw those silly pebbles at my window, you’d know what I’m doing here.

“Buggy rides,” she said, and none too friendly.

The broad grin folded in on itself, the white teeth obliterated by fine lips that gave no hint of a smile.

“I see.”

Sadie busied herself with the currycomb, brushing much faster and harder than normal, until Anna cleared her throat nervously.

Mark shoved his one foot against a bale of hay to reposition it, then sat down, loosely, easily, with that cat-like grace he possessed. He pulled out a piece of hay and chewed it. Patting the bale beside him, he smiled at Anna and asked if she wanted to sit there. Anna, gazing at him with adoring eyes, obliged him immediately.

“I’m sure Paris is brushed well enough,” he said slowly.

She didn’t give him the satisfaction of a reply, just yanked the black harness off the hook and threw it savagely onto Paris’ back.

“Whoa!” she said, when Paris sidestepped.

“We’re a bit testy today,” Mark said, his deep brown eyes teasing her.

Sadie faced him, her hands on her hips.

“No, we aren’t. I mean, no, I’m not testy. I just have work to do, unlike you, who does only what he pleases all the time.”

“You look awful pretty when you’re mad.”

With that, he got up and strode purposefully out of the barn. Sadie watched in disbelief, then remorse, as he strode up to the doughnut stand. Lillian Yoder, in a beautiful lime-green dress, hurried over to take his order, bowing and dipping, her blond hair shining with every toss of her head.

As Mark became drawn into a serious conversation with her, it was all Sadie could do to turn away from watching the scene at the doughnut stand as she picked up Paris’ bridle.

Anna giggled, “He bought six doughnuts.”

“Hmmph.”

Anna shrugged her shoulders, convinced Sadie would be an old maid forever, the way she acted about Mark Peight.

Sadie led Paris to the fence near a big handmade sign:

“Buggy Rides, $2.00.”

Sadie backed Paris between the shafts, as Anna held them aloft.

Sadie loosened the britchment straps, making sure the collar was not pinching her neck, and polished the bridle with a clean rag. A crowd was already forming, holding out the dollar bills required.

Sadie smiled, accepted the money, and helped the first six people into the spring wagon. Then she drove off with Paris acting like a perfect lady. She let Anna take the next six people, secretly gloating at the thought of having already accumulated $24. All the angry thoughts of Mark Peight slipped away.

The barbecued chicken smelled wonderful, the thick gray smoke rising from the pits as it rolled over the crowd. Sausage sandwiches, doughnuts, funnel cakes, and burritos—there was so much food Sadie wondered how to decide what she wanted most.

As she pulled Paris to a stop, she saw a middle-aged Asian couple climb up on the auctioneer’s platform, followed by a boy about Reuben’s age and a petite young girl dressed in traditional western garb.

The barrel racer and her family! The auctioneer introduced them as the Ching family. He told of the shooting, of the loss of their beloved animals, to a crowd hushed with sympathy. When he announced that the proceeds of the sale would go to help them buy more horses, hats went sailing into the air, and the crowd erupted in a cheer of goodwill and charity.

The Amish men kept their hats on their heads, stoic and quiet, as was their way. More than one straw hat was bent, white coverings alongside, as they wiped furtive tears.

Mr. Ching took the microphone and spoke in halting English of his deep gratitude. The crowd was completely quiet, listening reverently. He spoke from the heart with the good manners of the old Chinese, his arm at his waist as he bowed deeply, his wife nodding her assent at his side.

“For all the world like two beautiful little birds,” Dorothy would say later, shaking her head in wonder.

Mr. Ching introduced his daughter, Callie, who would be the real recipient of this day of unselfishness. She stepped up to the microphone and spoke in a low, musical voice about her loss, the heartbreak of finding the two quarter horses dead in the pasture, the bullet holes, and the investigation that followed.

“Last, I wish to thank all my friends of the Amish for this day.”

She bowed, waved, and stepped down, her black hair swinging down her back, her boots clicking on the wooden platform.

The auctioneer announced that no one would want to miss the making of egg rolls, wontons, and Chinese chicken and vegetables under the blue and white tent, all made by the relatives of the Ching family who had come from Indiana for the benefit.

Sadie stepped down from the spring wagon, and Anna took over. Sadie went to find a cold drink of lemonade, her throat parched by the sun and the dust.

Mark Peight stood by the lemonade stand in lively conversation with Callie Ching and appeared to be quite taken with her.

Had he no shame? The nerve of him! What a flirt! And she being English and all.

Sadie took two deep breaths to steady herself. Common sense finally settled in. He was a grown single man and could hold a conversation with whomever he wished. It was none of her concern. They were not dating, and she had no right to these ugly little monsters of jealousy that cropped up every time she saw him with another female. It was ridiculous.

But when Callie put a hand on his arm, and he bent his head toward hers, Sadie’s emotions skyrocketed into the wild blue sky.

Why did she care so much? He made her stomping mad with his … his ease and his grace and his smile and his pitiful past. Why wouldn’t he ask her for a decent date and stop being so secretive? She was just going to forget about him, and the next time he wanted to confide in her, she’d suggest he tell Lillian Yoder or Callie Ching. But she knew she couldn’t say that, because what if he did?

She felt all mixed up and evil inside, so she prayed hard for help right then and there. I need you, I am not being who I should be, she prayed.

Was love supposed to be like this—a standoff between feelings of wonderful heights and valleys so low they were unbearable, with the unexpected avalanche of emotions she could not understand thrown in randomly?

Well, she definitely was not thirsty for lemonade anymore.

She bought an ice-cold Pepsi from Reuben and his rambunctious friends at the drink counter. He threw a handful of ice at her, and she told him he’d better behave or she’d tell Dat. But Dat wasn’t there, Reuben reminded her, because he went to town for more ice.

Sipping her Pepsi, Sadie made her way through the crowd, smiling to herself at the sight of Fred Ketty leaning intently over a counter watching an aging Chinese woman making egg rolls.

“Oh, for sure, for sure,” she heard Ketty say, and hoped she didn’t have that ever-present toothpick dangling from her teeth.

“Oh! Oh, I’m sorry!” Sadie said.

She had bumped solidly into a broad chest and spilled her Pepsi all over a striped blue shirt. She stepped back and looked directly into the same blue eyes she had met in town.

“Sadie Miller, right?” he said.

She could feel the heat in her face and knew the blush quickly spreading across it was a telltale sign of … of what? Remembering him?

“How are you?” he asked, seeming confident in his ability to win her.

“I … I’m okay. I … I was on my way…” She jerked her thumb toward Anna on the spring wagon.

“Don’t let me keep you,” he said smiling.

“I’m … That’s my horse, Paris. I’m giving buggy rides for $2.”

“Will you take me for a buggy ride?”

“But you’re Amish. You’ve been on a buggy plenty of times.”

“Will you take me anyway?”

“I will.”

“Just me?”

Sadie lifted her chin.

“Yes.”

She persuaded Anna to let her take her turn driving. She climbed up on the driver’s side and took the reins. He hit the seat beside her with a solid thump, his shoulder landing squarely against hers.

“This your horse? Named Paris? That’s awesome.”

He turned to look at her, and their eyes met. They both grinned a happy smile of recognition and shared admiration.

“I don’t even know your name,” Sadie said.

“Guess.”

“Hmm. You’re from Lancaster. Isn’t everyone named Stoltzfus or … um … Zook? Strictly guessing!” she said, laughing.

“I love how you say Lancaster. LAN-caster. We say LANK-ister, sort of the … well, whatever.”

“You still didn’t tell me your name.”

“Guess. Hey, how come you’re circling around? We don’t want to go back yet. My name is Daniel.”

“Just Daniel?”

“Daniel King.”

“Oh. Hi, Daniel.”

He stuck out his hand and she grasped it warmly, a good solid hand, smooth and strong. She did not want to let go but did so reluctantly, the current between them so strong that they fell silent immediately.

Paris was tiring, her steps becoming slower as they made their way out Orvie’s driveway and past parked vehicles, the sound of the auctioneer’s sing-song voice fading rapidly.

“It’s so unreal out here in Montana. I’ve never seen anything like it. I don’t want to go home ever again.”

“We like it here, although we’ve definitely had our trials.”

Paris was walking uphill now, her head nodding with each step. Sadie told Daniel about the wild horses, Mam’s illness, the ranch, everything. Words came so easily, they were nearly unstoppable, a brook bubbling in a rich stream of memories and feelings.