The Forgiven (16 page)

“Right.” His voice was husky, and he cleared his throat. “I leave for Harrisburg on Friday morning.”

“But . . . so soon?” It was Wednesday already, and Jacob would be gone in less than two days.

“I know.” His face was bleak. “I must be on the bus in town at eight in the morning. If you come to see me off—”

“Of course I will be there.” How could he think she wouldn't?

“Will you promise me something?”

He was looking at her with so much love shining in his eyes that she would promise anything. She nodded. “What?”

He lifted her hands to his lips and spoke against them. “Promise me you won't cry. Because if you cry, I will, too. So you must promise.”

She struggled to produce a smile. “I promise.” She wouldn't cry when she saw him off. But when he was gone . . . well, there would be plenty of time then to cry.

R
ebecca
snapped the gas off under the kettle, feeling as if she were beginning to boil herself. Hadn't they agreed that Barbie would come straight here after work? That should have been two hours ago. Rebecca had anticipated having plenty of time to talk before Katie got home from school.

But Katie was here, sitting at the table with Joshua having a snack, and talking a mile a minute about what they'd done in class today. Josh hung on her every word, fascinated.

“Mammi, when will I go to school?” he asked for probably the hundredth time, interrupting Katie, who was reciting a list of the spelling words she had to learn for Friday's quiz. “Soon?”

“You don't start school until September, Joshua. Remember when we looked at the calendar? Summer comes first, and then it will be time.”

“I wish it was September now already,” he said, his lower lip coming out.

“Soon enough.” She tousled his hair, but she couldn't help joining in his longing.

By September, her first summer of running the farm-stay alone would be over. She'd know whether she could do it or not. Still, she couldn't help thinking of her mamm's comment each time she'd wished for something to happen more quickly.

Don't wish your life away,
Mamm would say. Rebecca hadn't understood the words then, but she'd begun to. This moment, now, with the kinder sitting at the kitchen table, deserved her appreciation and her focus. She shouldn't waste it on worry about why Barbie hadn't arrived.

She heard the creak of a buggy and the sound of hooves on the dirt lane, and a second later the buggy, with Barbie on the high seat, passed her kitchen window and came to a halt at the back door.

“Somebody's here!” Katie jumped from her chair, her oatmeal cookies barely touched, and raced toward the porch with Josh close behind.

Rebecca wiped her hands on the dish towel and followed them. It would be impossible to make her disappointment known to Barbie with the two children looking on.

Jumping lightly down from the buggy seat, Barbie seemed impervious to the notion that she'd done anything wrong. She greeted Katie and Josh with a hug.

“You two are growing like weeds, ain't so?” She measured Katie against herself with the flat of her hand. “Soon you'll be as tall as me.”

“I will, too,” Joshua said instantly. “I will, Cousin Barbie.”

“You'll be even taller before you're done,” Barbie said. She looked over their heads, still smiling, and saw Rebecca's stare.

Innocent blue eyes met Rebecca's gaze, the innocence replaced after a moment with a puzzled look.

“Go back in and finish your snack.” Rebecca shooed the kinder toward the kitchen door. “Cousin Barbie and I need to talk.”

She watched them until the door closed behind them and then turned back to Barbie. They'd have to have this issue out right now. How could Barbie possibly help her if she was this unreliable?

“What's going on?” Barbie's eyebrows lifted in a question. “You look as if you're ready to bite someone's head off. Mine, for instance.”

“I thought we agreed you were coming here directly from the bakery.” Rebecca kept her voice low. “If I can't count on you for that—”

“Didn't you get my message?” Barbie interrupted, eyes flashing. “I called and told you on your answering machine as soon as I knew I couldn't be here.”

Rebecca's righteous indignation fizzled, leaving her guilty and embarrassed.

“Oh, Barbie, I'm sorry. I haven't been out to the phone shanty all day. I should have checked it when you didn't show up. I just thought . . .” She let that trickle off, because what she'd thought made her feel ashamed.

“You thought I'd wandered off with some friends and forgotten all about you, ain't so?” Anger flickered briefly in Barbie's eyes and then was gone. “You just chalked it up to Barbie being irresponsible.”

“I'm so sorry. Please forgive me.” She had been irresponsible herself, jumping to conclusions that way. “I should have known better.”

For an instant Barbie stared at her. Then her face crinkled in its usual dimpled smile. “It's okay. Sometimes I deserve a scolding, but not this time. Ruth had a dentist's appointment today, and at the last minute she got panicky and wanted Susie to go with her.” She shrugged, her face clearly expressing what she thought of such silliness. “Imagine a grown woman, afraid of the dentist! So I said I'd keep the bakery open until they came back. What else could I do?”

“Nothing,” Rebecca said quickly, reaching out to clasp Barbie's hand. “You have a gut heart, and I should have known better than to make such an assumption.”

Barbie shrugged. “Forget it. Can we still work on plans for the weekend?”

“Of course.” Thank goodness Barbie still wanted to. Rebecca had half expected her to go off in a huff. “Why don't we sit at the picnic table since it's so nice today? I'll get my notebook and check on the kinder.”

She hurried inside without waiting for a response, scolding herself. If she didn't think of such a simple thing as checking the message machine, how did she imagine she was going to run a business?

Checking for messages would have to become part of her daily routine. Her Englisch guests might not be as forgiving as Barbie was.

When she came back out with the loose-leaf binder that held all her notes, Barbie was sitting at the picnic table. She'd shed the black bonnet she'd worn for the drive and sat with her head tilted back, her face to the sun.

“Here we are.” Rebecca plopped the binder on the table and pulled out a manila folder. “I made copies of what I thought you'd need to know.”

Barbie nodded, flipping the folder open. “Very businesslike,” she commented.

Was there any sarcasm in the words? Rebecca wasn't sure. She certainly didn't feel businesslike.

“You see there are going to be six people. I've marked down what meals they'll take here, the children's ages, and their arrival and departure times.”

“What do you have planned for them already?” Barbie looked at her, pen in hand, apparently ready to take notes.

“Not much, I guess. Simon is willing to do outside work with them, show them anything they want to learn about, but this time of year . . . well, it doesn't seem like it would be that interesting. I mean, there's plenty of work to be done, but why would they want to be out hoeing or planting?”

“They're from the city,” Barbie said, putting her pen on their address. “Anything that's done on the farm will be new to them. They'd probably get a kick out of shoveling manure if they've never done it before.”

“I don't think—” she began, and then she saw Barbie's grin.

“If you can get some Englischer to muck out the stalls, I'll give you a bonus,” Rebecca said, returning the grin.

“Deal,” Barbie said. “You'd be surprised what I can get people to do. Let's make a list of all the possibilities. Then they can choose what they want to do.”

“What about the children?” Rebecca said, getting out a fresh sheet of paper. “Simon was always concerned about making sure they didn't get hurt, what with the farm machinery and the animals.”

Barbie nodded. “We can make a second list for the kinder. You can trust Katie and Josh to do their chores and amuse themselves, but I don't know that you can think that about Englisch children. You wouldn't believe how some of them behave when they come in the bakery.”

“Don't tell me,” Rebecca said quickly. “I'm nervous enough already.”

“Scaredy-cat,” Barbie teased. “Okay, now, let's just think of as many things as we can, no matter if they sound silly. We can weed them out later.”

It was a sound plan, Rebecca realized, and her mind was already sparking with ideas. This was what she'd needed—someone to talk to and plan with. She hadn't realized how much that lack had been troubling her.

They began jotting down ideas. Every one of Barbie's, no matter how silly, sent another one popping into Rebecca's head.

“No one in their right mind is going to want to clean out the chicken coop,” she protested when Barbie added that suggestion. “I don't want to, and they're my chickens.”

Barbie grinned. “Can't you just picture a woman in high heels and a tight skirt chasing chickens around the coop? It would be worth the price of admission. Maybe we could give a prize for the most chickens caught.”

Rebecca met Barbie's eyes, sharing the image, and began to giggle helplessly. “Ach, don't. We're supposed to be working.” She mopped at her eyes, wondering how long it had been since she'd laughed that way.

“Well, I still say city folks will think just about anything is a treat if we tell them it is.” Barbie glanced over Rebecca's head at something. “I see your handsome friend is here.”

“What?” She swiveled on the bench and realized that Matt had pulled up to the workshop.

“Handsome,” Barbie repeated. “Matthew Byler. You have noticed that, haven't you?”

Barbie couldn't know just how much she'd noticed about Matt. “I suppose he is nice-looking.” Rebecca made an effort to sound as if the idea had never occurred to her.

“Nice? He's better than nice.” Barbie raised her arm and waved at Matt.

“Don't do that,” Rebecca exclaimed, pulling her arm down.

“Why not?” Barbie's blue eyes sparkled. “He saw. He's coming over.”

That was why not, but it was useless trying to explain to Barbie. The truth was that Rebecca wasn't sure she was ready to face Matt so soon after the personal things he'd shared with her. After the moment when she'd been so close to him that she could smell his skin and see the tiny lines around his eyes and felt—well, she didn't know what she'd felt. But she knew she didn't want to talk to him with her cousin Barbie looking on.

“Rebecca Fisher,” Barbie said softly. “You have feelings for that man, don't you?”

“No, of course not. Don't be silly.” But warmth rose in her cheeks at the question, and surely Barbie could see her blush.

He was too close to say anything more, but Rebecca was very aware of her cousin's gaze on her as she greeted Matt.

“You two look like you're having a fine time over here. What's all the laughing about?”

“Wouldn't you like to know?” Barbie smiled up at him, her dimples flashing.

Flirting, Rebecca thought. It was almost second nature to Barbie, it seemed to Rebecca.

“We're making up lists of activities for the guests I have coming this weekend. Barbie has some funny ideas of what our Englisch visitors might enjoy.”

“Here, see for yourself.” Barbie waved her list, and Matt moved closer to look over her shoulder, scanning what she'd jotted down.

Or was he looking at Barbie? Rebecca couldn't be sure.

Well, that wouldn't be surprising, would it? Barbie was probably nice for a man to look at, with her rosy cheeks, her dimples, and her flashing eyes. Next to her, Rebecca felt as old and worn-out as a used dishcloth.

Matt transferred his gaze to Rebecca, eyeing her a little quizzically. “What about offering your guests a tour of a real handmade-furniture workshop? I could give a demonstration.”

She wanted to leap at the prospect, but . . .

“That would be asking too much,” she said. “You're wonderful kind, but you have your own work to do. I can't expect you to spend your time on my guests.”

“I offered. You didn't ask.” His gaze was so warm she seemed to feel her skin heating under it. “It's simple enough, and anyway, maybe they'll buy something.”

Before she realized what he was doing, he bent over, took the pen from her hand, and printed the words on her list.
Tour
an Amish handcrafted furniture workshop
. He put the pen back in her hand, his fingers brushing hers.

“There. I'll be disappointed if you don't send anyone over.” He was leaning with one hand braced on the table close to hers. He smiled down into her face, and she couldn't seem to stop looking at him.

With a rustle of her skirt, Barbie stood. “Since I can tell you two want to be alone, I think I'll go in and check on the kinder.”

Rebecca could hear the teasing laughter in her voice, and she didn't know where to look. Her gaze dropped from Matt's face, but it was nearly as bad staring at his strong, tanned hand so close to hers.

Once she heard Barbie go in the house, she managed to clear her throat. “Barbie likes to tease. Don't pay any attention to her.”

“I'd guess that your little cousin is used to getting a lot of attention.” Now the teasing came from him. “She doesn't bother me.”

“I wouldn't want you to think . . .” The words trailed off, because she didn't know where to go with them.

“What, Rebecca? What shouldn't I think?” His voice was low, and it seemed to force her to meet his eyes. Whatever he saw in her face seemed to deter him, because he smiled suddenly.

“Forget it. I just couldn't resist the temptation to tease you.”

“You and Barbie have the same idea.” She tried to say it lightly, as if none of their interactions had any meaning. “Was there something you wanted? When you came over, I mean.”

“Just to thank you.” He gestured with his hand, still bandaged. “I don't think I told you that yesterday.”

“It was nothing.” She found she could relax, at least a little. They were on safer ground. “My foolish little brother caused it, after all. I just hope the cut didn't keep you from doing your work today.”

“We're between jobs right now.” He frowned slightly, as if he was troubled. “There's something else on my mind, and I'd best get it out. It's about what I told you yesterday.” His face tightened, and he seemed to be looking past her. “I'm not sure why I spilled all that to you. Just upset, I guess, that my temper got the better of me again.”