Love’s Journey Home (38 page)

“I invited her,” Aenti Louise called from the supper table. She couldn’t possibly
see Catherine at the door. She surely had keen hearing for a woman of her age. “Let
her in. I want all my nieces here for this birthday.”

Annie stared at the couple on the doorstep. “But…”

“This is my house.” Luke appeared next to her. He clomped past Catherine as if he
didn’t see her there and tromped down the steps headed for the barn. “Last time I
checked.”

“She’s not going to be around forever. I want to see her.” Catherine stopped. Her
gaze dropped. “You understand, don’t you?”

Annie did understand. Aenti Louise’s failing health had never been more apparent than
it had been this evening. But she couldn’t go against Luke’s wishes. His house. Their
Ordnung. “I’m sorry. Not here. Not tonight.”

“Could you at least give her this?” Catherine proffered the package to Annie. “I don’t
want to cause any trouble. I stopped by to see her when I arrived in town. She mentioned
the birthday supper.”

Annie glanced back and saw Leah hovering near the door to the kitchen, her face tight
with a thin-lipped frown. No help from that quarter. Annie squeezed past Catherine
and her friend, whom she still hadn’t introduced. With care not to slam it, Annie
shut the door behind her. “Let’s talk on the porch.”

“Annie, this is Dean Barlow.” Catherine took the man’s hand. “My friend.”

“Her fiancé, if she’d just admit it.” Dean had a nice smile, even teeth, white against
his tan. “Catherine talks about you all the time. You look just like her.”

“Yes.” Annie put one hand on the wooden railing to steady herself. For some reason,
her legs felt weak. “You’re the doctor. The student doctor.”

“I am.” He joined her at the railing while Catherine remained where she stood, looking
down at the package in her hand, looking like she wondered how it got there and what
she was expected to do with it. “I’m also in love with your sister.”

“You are?” Annie looked up at him. His eyes were a clear blue, his tone untroubled,
his posture relaxed and easy. So unlike the Plain men she knew. They didn’t go about
discussing their feelings with someone they’d just met. But then, maybe it took courage
to do that. “Does she love you?”

“I expect she does.” He grinned then, his gaze sliding toward Catherine. “She says
she does and she says she never lies. She says the Amish don’t lie.”

“I’m sorry I can’t invite you in.”

“We’ll live. Won’t we, Cat?”

Cat?

“I’ll live.” Catherine sank into the hickory rocking chair. “We’ve no choice.”

“You did have a choice and you made it,” Annie pointed out. Catherine couldn’t make
this out to be anyone’s fault but her own. They’d gone far beyond what was permitted
in the time they’d spent together at the bakery. “Are you regretting it now?”

“Only our—your ways.”

“Then you made the right choice.”

“I made the choice I could live with.”

Dean put both hands on the railing and leaned forward. He took a deep breath and let
it out. “I don’t know. I could get used to living in a place like Bliss Creek. It’s
so peaceful, so quiet. The air’s fresh and the people pleasant. Not like the big city.
Wichita is so loud and obnoxious sometimes. I wonder if Bliss Creek could use another
doctor.”

Annie turned in time to see the startled look on Catherine’s face. She saw there,
in that expression, the truth. Catherine would never return to Bliss Creek for good.

“Catherine.” She went to her sister, knelt at her feet, and took the package from
her hand. “Catherine, you know why you came here. It wasn’t to see Aenti or me or
to work on your thesis. It’s another year away, that paper. You came to make your
peace.”

“There’s no peace for me.” Catherine shook her head, her eyes shimmering like the
water in the pond in the afternoon sun. “You’re supposed to forgive. Plain folks forgive.
Why can’t Luke forgive me?”

“He does forgive you, but he also believes in following the rules. That’s what holds
his world together. You know that. It’s how he manages. He keeps going, taking care
of this farm and all of us by following the rules.”

“What about the rule that says you forgive?”

“Meidung isn’t meant as a punishment. You know that. It’s meant to force you to see
what you’re giving up. What your life will be like if you don’t return to the fold.
It also helps us to make sure we don’t stumble and fall into your worldly ways. You
know that as well as I do.”

“It feels like punishment. Like I’m being punished for having seen that awful accident.
For having watched them die and not being able to help them. I didn’t even try to
help them.”

“You couldn’t help them. No one could. You weren’t a doctor, you were a young girl.
No one blames you.”

“Then why do I feel so guilty?”

“Because you loved them and they’re gone and you’re still here.”

Catherine put her head in her hands and began to rock.

Dean squatted next to Annie. “Let me have her,” he whispered. “I’ll take care of her.
I promise.”

Annie rose. She went to the door, but she looked back, not able to stop herself. Dean
drew Catherine from the rocking chair and folded his arms around her. Catherine’s
head fit in the crook of his arm, and he had to bend down to hold on to her. Her tears
were muffled by his shirt, but his soft mutterings carried. He told her he loved her,
God loved her, and her family loved her.

Catherine had indeed found the right man for her. Relief flooded Annie. Dean would
do. She might never see him again, but she would know Catherine had found someone
who understood her and would take care of her. Dean knew her sister needed reassurance.
She would always need reassurance. Something about the accident she witnessed had
ripped away everything solid and stable in her life, leaving her on shifting sands
where her sense of security waned instead of grew.

Dean looked up and caught Annie’s gaze. He nodded as if to say
I’ve got her
. Annie nodded and mouthed
Thank you
. She turned and went in. No need to look back. That chapter was closed.

A
nnie slid from the buggy, lifted her skirt, and ran toward the dawdi haus. Onkel John
stood at the doorway, his massive arms crossed over his chest. His hat hid his face,
but she could see the emotion in the slump of his shoulders.

“She’s been asking for you.” His gruff voice scraped like sandpaper against her ears.
“Best hurry.”

Straightening her shoulders, she squeezed past him. The air in the house hung still
and dank as if empty already.
She’s not gone yet
. The birthday celebration the previous week seemed to have taken the last of her
aenti’s strength. She was failing quickly. Too quickly. Every day a little weaker.
Annie picked up her pace. The door to the bedroom hung open. She inhaled a quick breath
and entered. Aenti Bertha sat by the bed, knitting needles clacking, moving quickly,
row after row. Annie tore her gaze from the frowning concentration of her face to
the bed.

Aenti Louise lay on her side, her eyes closed, both hands clasped under cheek, the
Sunshine and Shadow quilt pulled up over her shoulders despite the sweltering August
heat.

“Aenti Louise,” she whispered. “It’s me, Annie.”

“It’s about time.” Louise opened her eyes. She sniffed and squinted. “Speak up, girl,
this isn’t a funeral. Not yet, anyway.”

“Aenti Louise!” Annie giggled. Aenti Bertha looked up from her knitting and frowned.
Annie frowned back. The other woman dropped her gaze. “Onkel John said you wanted
to see me.”

“Bertha, could you get us some lemonade? I’m so thirsty.” Louise rolled over and faced
her sister-in-law. Bertha stood and tossed her knitting in a basket at her feet. She
didn’t look happy, but Louise didn’t seem to notice. “And some cookies.”

For someone on her deathbed, she seemed awfully chipper. And bossy.

“What is it, Aenti?”

Louise pulled herself up so she half sat, half lay against the pile of pillows behind
her. She patted the bed. “Sit, sit, girl, you’re giving me a crick in my neck towering
over me like that.”

Annie sat.

“They act like I’m dying or something.” Louise’s querulous tone made her sound like
a child. “They won’t let me out of this bed. Your Onkel John treats me like a little
girl. I’m older than he is by twenty years.”

“He’s just worried about you. That’s all.” Annie smoothed the quilt. She was worried
too. Her aunt’s cheeks were sunken, her lips tinged with blue, and her scalp showed
through the wisps of white hair that clumped over her forehead. She looked older,
if it were possible, than she had at her birthday only a week earlier, and far more
frail. “What did Doctor Corbin say?”

“He said I’m old.” Louise thumped both hands on the quilt in frustration. “He’d better
not send me a bill for that diagnosis.”

“Onkel John said you fell. He found you out in the yard, sprawled on your back. He
said you hit your head.”

“So I took a tumble.” Louise touched her hand to the back of her head, behind her
ear, in an unconscious gesture. “It’s not the first time an old woman’s fallen. Won’t
be the last.”

Bertha entered the room carrying the lemonade.

“Where are the cookies?” Louise fussed. “I know there are cookies in that kitchen.
I made them myself last week.”

“The doctor says the sugar is bad…”

“I don’t care what the doctor says. If I’m dying, what difference does it make?”

Bertha’s face crumpled. “Don’t talk like that, Louise.”

“
Ach
, come here.”

Louise flapped her knobby hands. Bertha set the glasses on the small side table and
rushed to embrace her sister-in-law. The two women made murmuring sounds. Annie had
to look away. She wiped at tears that surprised her. Nothing to cry about. Louise
was fine. Same crabby old woman she’d been since Annie sat at her feet listening to
stories as a little girl.

“Now, you go do your laundry.” Louise pushed Bertha away. “I want to have a visit
with my niece.”

“I can’t leave you.”

“Bertha, your husband will need clean pants tomorrow, and I won’t be the reason he’s
hollering at you when he can’t find none. Go.”

Bertha threw up her hands, slid from the bed, and marched toward the door. “I’ll be
back,” she tossed over her shoulder. “Don’t you tire her out, Annie. She needs her
rest. The doctor says rest is the best thing for her.”

She left the door open but disappeared from sight. Louise stared at the door as if
waiting to make sure she didn’t pop back in. After a few seconds, she threw back the
quilt with such force Annie jumped.

“Come on, don’t just stand there.”

“What? Where are we going?”

“Anywhere. I want to take a walk. I want to be outside.” Louise held out a hand. “Help
me out of this bed. I don’t want to die without having one more look.”

“One more look?”

“At God’s beautiful earth.”

Annie helped her from the bed. Louise swayed. Her hand went to her mouth. She swallowed,
her face ashen. Annie tightened her grip. “Are you sure?”

“Where are my shoes? Get my shoes, girl. I can’t be wandering around outside without
my shoes.”

Afraid to let go, Annie guided her to the chair where Bertha had been sitting. She
found the shoes and gently slid them on Louise’s tiny feet. “Ready?”

“Ready.” Louise stood again, this time steadier. “Back door. Hopefully John went along
with his fraa, but let’s take no chances.”

Feeling like she’d undertaken a secret mission, whisking her aunt away from kidnappers,
Annie found herself holding her breath. Through the living room of the small, sturdy
house, through the kitchen, neat as a pin and smelling of freshly baked sweet bread,
and toward the back door. “Where to, Aenti?”

Louise plowed to a stop. “First you get me some cookies from the counter, there, and
then it’s on to the big wide world.”

Annie did as she was told, wrapping four cookies in a napkin as she erased the picture
of Bertha’s disapproving glare from her mind. Then she helped her aunt through the
back door and down the steps.

“Let’s go toward the stand of pecan trees out there.” Louise waved a hand toward the
east. “Where we always walk.”

Where they’d walked when Louise had been a little younger and a little stronger and
a little steadier on her feet. Annie shortened her stride to match the older woman’s
and kept her fingers tight on Louise’s arm. Sweat dampened her face and neck and made
her dress hang damp and heavy on her legs. She should’ve brought the lemonade.

“You don’t have to worry.” Aenti Louise wheezed in a breath. “I’m not afraid.”

“I’m not worried.” Her aunt had always known what Annie was thinking. She knew what
every one of her children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and nieces and nephews
thought. “You’ll live to be a hundred. You’re too cranky to die.”