Something Old (28 page)

Jake’s familial home was a typical Plain City farm. It consisted of a two-story house, barn, silo, and more than forty acres of flat, tilled cornfields. Large ash and buckeyes shaded the house, and Katy recalled her first kiss happened under the huge weeping willow by the circle drive. She had been sixteen years old. Trying not to think about it, she stepped up onto the front porch that cooled the Bylers’ guests in the summer and sheltered them in winter.

As soon as she touched the bell, Jake opened the door. His hair was still damp from the shower, and his face clean-shaven. For a moment he just grinned at her, looking rakish with his one black eye.

She flashed him a timid smile. “This feels strange.”

“Not to me. You belong here.” He took her hand and drew her inside. “With me.”

She wet her lips, choosing to ignore his remark. “Where is everybody?”

“In the kitchen. Come on.”

Ann Byler’s kitchen reflected her cheery disposition. She celebrated sunshine, welcoming it through rows of windows dressed in perky yellow valances. The window and ledge above the sink displayed a collection of stained-glass sun catchers. An antique cupboard held a sun chime. Its soft jingle had always intrigued Katy. In the summer, Ann grew sunflowers in her garden, and in the winter, silk ones decorated the table.

Rocking in a corner stream of late-afternoon light, Jake’s grandmother bowed her head over a lap-sized hoop. She didn’t look up when Katy moved closer to observe her project, watching the old hands work a needle up and down through taut material. To her pleasant surprise, the stitching was small and even. The old woman’s hands were steady, and the tips of her fingers that weren’t covered with thimbles were dry and cracked from the continuous push of the needle. Sympathy curled inside Katy’s heart. She would bring Minnie some of her healing hand ointment.

“Mom loves to quilt pillow shams,” Ann said, then returned to her stove.

“I sell them for her on eBay.” Jake winked and moved to give Minnie a side hug. When he saw Katy’s confusion, he explained, “An Internet store. On the computer.”

Katy touched Minnie’s arm. “That’s very good stitching.”

The older woman looked up then focused on Jake. “Who have you brought home, Jacob?”

“This is Katy Yoder.”

“Oh. I taught her in Sunday school, you know. Such a lovely girl.”

Katy beamed that Minnie remembered her, but sadly Minnie thought Jake was his grandfather, his namesake. “I loved your stories about David and Goliath. The way you marched around the room with a pretend slingshot.”

Minnie giggled then covered her mouth, whispering between her fingers. “I should have been a movie actress.”

Shocked, Katy replied, “I’m glad you were a Sunday school teacher instead.”

“Dinner’s ready,” Ann called.

“Are you hungry, Gram?” Jake asked.

“No, I need to finish this while there’s still light.”

“We’re having meat loaf.”

“Well that does sound good. Maybe I will.” He helped her stand, and then she walked to the kitchen table, confused.

“In the dining room. Since Katy’s visiting.”

“Who’s Katy?”

Katy’s heart sank.

Giving Katy a sympathetic look, Jake guided Grandma Minnie by the elbow to her place in the dining room. “What a pretty table.” She stopped mid-step and smiled at Ann. “You shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble.”

Jake whispered to Katy, “Most of the time she thinks Mom is her sister, and I’m Grandpa.”

“You always looked like him,” Katy whispered.

Once Minnie was seated, Ann smiled at Katy. “I’m so glad you came tonight. I’ve missed you.”

Katy had always appreciated Ann’s gentle manner. Rumor was she didn’t have any backbone, and that’s why she allowed her only daughter to traipse off to OSU and why Jake went wild. With his dad gone, there was simply no discipline. Katy tried to rein her thoughts back to the conversation. Ann was asking polite questions, inquiring about Katy’s work and skirting around Grandma Minnie’s periodic interruptions with a practiced skill that was both sad and heartwarming. Sipping water from a sunflower-patterned glass, Katy listened to Ann’s summer plans for a fruit and vegetable stand, and cast smiling eyes Jake’s way, pleased with him for returning home to help his family.

Before she left, Katy and Ann planned for Katy to stay with Grandma Minnie one day a week. If that worked, they might extend it to two days and include some cleaning. Around eight o’clock, Jake offered to walk her to her car.

Taking her gloved hand, he said, “How about you start the heater, and I’ll join you for a few minutes. We haven’t had any time alone.”

Instantly, Katy remembered times they’d sat in his truck after a date and talked. Sometimes they kissed, but he’d always remained a gentleman. Would he keep his word tonight, about not kissing her until she was ready?

Inside her car, he took her hand and leaned close. “Thanks so much for helping with Grams.”

“We’ll get along fine. She remembered me for an instant.”

“She loved you. Back when we were in high school, she encouraged me to date you.”

Resisting the nostalgic pull, Katy drew her hand away, taking hold of the steering wheel. Light shone through the living room windows. Everything inside had been faintly familiar yet different. Jake’s dad was now gone, Cal was married, and Erin was away at college. Jake seemed changed, too, older and more mature. But should she trust him? It would be so easy to fall under his spell.

Take it slow,
Lil had warned, in spite of her earlier matchmaking. Did Lil know something about Jake she wasn’t sharing? Or was it just Lil’s way to hang on to the doddy house dream?

Katy glanced over. “What really happened to your eye?”

The corner of his mouth quirked. “I just collided with something.”

She arched her brows. “Did you know David had a similar accident?”

Finally he replied, his Amish-Dutch accent thicker than usual, “It’s a good thing you dumped him. He’s a real hothead.”

“He started it then?”

“He came to the church one night after the crew left. I tried to reason with him, but in his condition it was useless. I’m surprised he even made it home without ending up in some ditch.”

Her pursed lips slackened. “He was drunk?”

Jake nodded.

“But everybody thinks he’s such a nice guy,” Katy protested.

Jake looked hurt. “Everyone makes mistakes.”

She considered his statement. David Miller had gotten drunk and started a fight because of her mistakes. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “I know what you’re thinking. That I used him to get the doddy house. But I wanted to find out if I was over you, too. I hoped my dates with David would turn into more.”

He touched her cheek. “Thanks for your honesty.”

She dropped her hands in her lap and stared at him, blinking back threatening tears. Silence hovered between them, and she knew instinctively when he thought about kissing her. She saw his inward struggle, but he refrained.

Should she ask him more about his relationship with Jessie? Would there ever be a more fitting time? Before she could trust him, she needed to know exactly what she was forgiving.

But he spoke again first. “The doddy house has always been your

dream. I want you to enjoy it. Although I made mistakes when I was out on my own, it helped me find my way. I want that for you, too. It will help us in our relationship.”

It seemed contrived now to bring the conversation back to Jessie. Instead, Katy asked, “What if I become too independent and never marry? I like being my own boss.”

“You still have Lil.”

She chuckled, glad they’d lightened the tone of the conversation. “I don’t get to boss her around, but we do have some great argu—discussions.”

His laughter rang in her ears long after the car had grown quiet. Then he said, “You have a pure heart, Katy Yoder. It draws a man.”

But it was his heart Katy wanted to explore. She needed to know if they still meshed. “What do you think about the prayer covering?”

He didn’t answer directly. “If we ever married, I’d give you lots of freedom to be yourself.”

She considered the implications of the
S
word as she studied his moonlit face. He seemed serious.

“You wouldn’t boss me around?”

“Would you listen if I did?”

She shrugged.

He stared at her lips. “I’m finding it hard to behave.” Involuntarily, she twirled her ponytail.

He swallowed. “I’d better go.” Once he was out, he ducked his head back inside. “I’ll call.”

As she watched him go, she had to wonder if he offered a relationship with plenty of freedom because he wasn’t willing to settle down himself. If she pursued a relationship with him, even marriage, would there be more things to condone? Or worse things to forgive? Freedom was a frightening thing. Was his newfound faith in God enough to make him a faithful husband?

A
nn Byler lingered at the door, a worrisome gaze flitting over her sunny nest, and Katy sensed the other woman’s reluctance to give her elderly mother over to someone else’s care.

“Grandma Minnie will be fine with me. Take as long as you like.” Katy knew Ann needed a break, regardless of her own niggling apprehension at spending time in Jake’s home, where even in his absence, his presence permeated every corner.

Was she overly sensitive that everything about that man attracted and cautioned her at the same time? That everything about him screamed,
Tread carefully?

The door closed and she braced herself. She owed Grandma Minnie. In Sunday school, it was Minnie who had instilled in her to color inside the lines. And taught her faces weren’t purple, but legs were black. Minnie had guided generations, campaigning against prideful adornment whether it be a necktie or lipstick. Normally, Katy used a lip moistener with just a touch of shine, but in case Minnie was having one of her lucid days, Katy had avoided that luxury.

No need to vex the woman in her old age. Katy couldn’t imagine the pain Minnie must have endured over the years as changes invaded their tight-knit community. It was sad, but Katy didn’t know another woman in the church who could follow in Minnie’s stead to keep the church from conforming to the world around them.

Minnie sat on the couch, staring across the room where her gaze was transfixed on a tree outside the window. Her quilting hoop lay discarded on the cushion next to her.

“Hello, Minnie.”

The woman jerked her gaze away and squinted at Katy. “Are you here for firewood? That old tree isn’t dead. Only dormant, waiting for spring.” She folded her arms. “My swing’s in that tree.”

The homestead had been Minnie’s childhood home. No wonder she was so confused now. “I’m just here to visit.”

The deeply folded face belied the childlike spirit. “Then let’s go swing.” Minnie pushed up from the couch and started toward the kitchen with amazing agility.

Scurrying after her, Katy objected. “It’s really cold outside.”

Minnie’s chin jutted up. “But I want to swing.”

Seeing there was no stopping the older woman, Katy went to the coat closet. “Put this on first.”

Thankfully, Minnie shrugged into her black, Amish shawl.

“Sit down. I’ll help you put your boots on, too.”

Minnie sat, a wide smile on her face.

Katy grabbed a pair of winter boots that appeared to be the appropriate size and knelt in front of Minnie. The action reminded her of foot washing service, and it humbled her and sent warm fuzzies up her back to serve the woman who had once served her. She untied the black oxfords and set them to the side, then tipped the boots. Minnie obediently poked her black-clad toes into the opening. She tilted her face to the side, studying Katy.

“Who are you?”

“Katy Yoder. A friend of Jake’s. All done. Let’s go.” Minnie took her hand, and they went outside. For an instant the older woman braced herself, confused and blinking at the sudden glare of sunlight. The sting of cold air nipped Katy’s face. “This way.”

She led the five-foot-two woman around the side of the house to the old ash tree. She helped Minnie onto the swing’s board seat, which was supported by two thick ropes. “Hold tight. I’ll push you.” Minnie pumped her legs and giggled. Her blue skirt billowed out, exposing thin, black-clad knees. Minnie was always barely over one hundred pounds, and now seemed more waiflike than ever, and as Katy stepped away to watch, a melancholy lump formed in her throat.

How many human generations would the old tree know? It was sad to see Minnie’s life end in confusion. It hurt to learn that even when you colored inside the lines, life was still not a safe place to inhabit.

“I can touch heaven,” Minnie said, pointing her toes. “God’s smiling at me.”

Katy swiped her coat sleeve across her eyes.

After they finished playing, Katy fixed Minnie the leftover chili that Ann had set aside for their lunch. Her face still aglow from the crisp cold, Minnie had the spoon to her mouth before Katy was even seated. With a smile, Katy said, “I’ll pray.”

She closed her eyes and, still feeling melancholy over Minnie’s condition, she waited for peace to settle over her before she started speaking. “Lord, I thank You for Minnie’s life, for her years of leadership and love to us. I pray that You will fill her heart with joy and peace. May she always feel Your presence. We thank You for this food. Amen.”

Katy opened her eyes and looked across the table. Her jaw dropped. Stunned, she stared at Minnie.

The Alzheimer’s victim had removed her prayer covering and placed it upside down in her bowl of chili. Her hair was partly unpinned, and she was struggling with its remaining pins.

Katy jumped up and fairly flew around the side of the table. She grabbed Minnie’s hand, but the older woman jerked it away and knocked over her water glass. With a yelp, Katy ran to the counter for a roll of paper towels. Minnie had jumped up now, too, and was holding her apron out, staring at a giant wet spot, her lower lip quivering. Her hair was as wild as a bag woman’s Katy had once observed on a Columbus street corner.

Dabbing at the puddle of water spreading across the tablecloth and dripping onto the floor, Katy soaked up as much as she could. Then she glanced at Minnie, still not believing the woman had stuck her covering in her chili bowl. But when their gazes met, Minnie must have felt her displeasure because she started to cry.