To Love and to Cherish (11 page)

He stood and picked up a card from a desk cluttered with files and medical supply catalogues. “But sometimes your hearts hurt. I’m just a small town doc who treats broken arms and strep throat.” He held the card out to Catherine. She stared at it like it might be a rattlesnake preparing to strike her. “You need help I can’t give you. I suspect all three of you need it. But especially you, Catherine. You’re suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. I’m afraid it won’t go away on its own. Doctor Baker specializes in this kind of problem. I’ve sent a few vets with PTSD her way over the years.”

Her hand shaking, Catherine finally took the card and handed it to Emma.
Doctor Sheila Baker
. The word “psychologist” jumped out at Emma. The doctor’s office was in Wichita. They’d have to go there to get help for Catherine.

Luke slapped his huge hand on his pant leg. “So you’re saying there’s nothing physically wrong with Catherine?”

“Technically, I could find nothing wrong, but my diagnosis is she is an eighteen-year-old girl with a broken heart.” Doctor Miller’s tone was sharp. “That’s not an ailment to be taken lightly. It’s manifesting itself in physical ways. She’s not eating. She’s losing weight. She’s not sleeping. If this keeps up, she’ll start to have physical problems and she won’t be able to get on with her life. You must deal with it.”

Tears burned Emma’s eyes. Her sister suffered from a broken heart. Emma knew exactly how that felt, even if for different reasons.

Luke stood and strode to the door. His hand on the knob, he looked back. “We’ll take care of her, Doctor.”

Out on the sidewalk, Emma scurried to keep up with Luke’s long-legged gait. Catherine, who was even shorter, practically had to run. Finally, Emma plucked at his sleeve. “Slow down, please!”

He slammed to a halt. Catherine nearly plowed in to him. “Are you angry with me?” Catherine’s mouth quivered. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to do better. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not mad.” Luke’s gaze swung beyond them. “Not at you.”

Emma turned to see what he was looking at. Miriam stood in front of the harness shop. Josiah, one hand around the waist of Sarah Kauffman, turned away from her and walked down the sidewalk toward the Home Town Restaurant.

Her head down, Miriam disappeared into her father’s shop. Emma didn’t know where to go first—the shop or after Josiah. Luke made the decision for her. He started across the street. A car honked. Another swerved, then whizzed by.

Emma scampered after him, Catherine on her heels. “Careful, Luke!”

“He’s supposed to be at the blacksmith shop.”

“It’s lunchtime,” Emma offered. “He’s getting something to eat.”

“We agreed that he would take his lunch to save money.” Luke jerked open the door. “And what is Sarah doing, coming all the way from Wichita to be seen in public with him? To flaunt herself in front of a good Plain woman?”

Emma couldn’t argue with either point. She’d made the sandwiches
and packed the cooler with pickled cabbage and shoo-fly pie. She knew about Josiah’s interest in Sarah and hadn’t told Luke, fearing his reaction. Obviously for good reason. Poor Miriam. Had it been pure chance or had Josiah made it a point for Miriam to see him with Sarah? “Maybe he didn’t know Sarah was coming.”

“Maybe.” Luke muttered. “Or maybe he’s deceitful and can’t be trusted to do the right thing. Either way, I intend to find out.”

Inside the restaurant, the aroma of frying chicken, sizzling steaks, and onions on the grill would’ve made Emma’s stomach rumble if it weren’t already tied up in knots about what would happen next. She tried to keep up as Luke dodged a waitress with a heavy tray laden with steaming chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes, and gravy. Luke wouldn’t make a scene. It wasn’t their way. But this was new territory for Luke. Thrust into the position of leading their household.

Shaking her head at the waitress who wanted to seat them, Emma threaded her way through the packed tables, nodding at several familiar faces.
Please, God, don’t let this blow up into a big scene. Please help Luke find his way. Help Josiah find his way. Let us find it together. Please
.

“Josiah.” Luke could pack so much disapproval into three syllables. “What are you doing?”

Josiah looked up. He and Sarah were seated on the same side of a scarred vinyl booth, sharing a menu. Sarah’s smile froze. She leaned away from Josiah. He grabbed her hand and held it on the table. “What are you doing in town?”

“That’s it, isn’t it?” Luke eased into the seat across from them. “You figured I wouldn’t come into town so I’d never know about these dates.”

Emma debated. Should she and Catherine keep standing or sit? It would be more obvious if they continued to stand. She slid in next to Luke and lifted her eyebrows at Catherine, who immediately sat down beside her.

Josiah shrugged. “Plain people always court privately. No one is to know until it’s time to announce the nuptials. It’s tradition.”

Emma gripped her hands together, trying to keep her temper in check. Josiah was baiting Luke. She waded into the foray in hopes of
finding a way to mediate that didn’t end badly for anyone. “Sarah’s not Plain. And since you haven’t been baptized, neither are you.”

Sarah’s cheeks stained red. “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t, Sarah. Don’t apologize. You’re not sorry.” Josiah glared at Emma. “No kidding, Emma. Glad you straightened that out.”

“There’s no need to be disrespectful to your sister.” Luke’s voice was low, but Emma heard the steel in it. “Have you made a decision about your baptism?”

Josiah studied the menu for several seconds. Emma couldn’t breathe. Finally, he raised his head. “Yes. It’s not for me.”

“You’re only seventeen years old. You still have time to change your mind. Until then, at the end of the day, I expect you home to do your chores.”

Emma breathed. Luke hadn’t moved into the realm of ultimatums, and he hadn’t raised his voice.

“I plan to be there.” Josiah’s knuckles whitened as he gripped Sarah’s hand. The girl winced, and Josiah’s fingers uncurled a little. “I’m sorry, Luke. I’m not doing this to make you mad. I’m just trying to figure out how to be happy.”

“What about Miriam’s happiness? You led her to believe—”

“I led her to believe nothing. We sang. We laughed. We’re friends.”

“I don’t believe she saw it that way. She forsakes others to wait for you.”

“I’ve spoken with her. She understands.”

“I doubt she understands anything.” Luke moved a salt shaker to the corner of the table. “I want what is best for you and that’s to be with your own kind. To be baptized in your faith.”

A tear trailed down Sarah’s face. “How can that be the only way when we—”

Josiah shook his head. “There’s no point in arguing with him. Luke is even more conservative than my parents.”

“I’m sorry for you, Josiah. You wouldn’t be in this predicament if they had been stricter with you.” Luke’s voice cracked a little. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I don’t mean to speak ill of them, but they shouldn’t have allowed you to go to Wichita.”

His eyes shiny with tears, Josiah sighed and released Sarah’s hand. “Mudder knew I was different from you.”

“All the more reason.”

“She had a heart.”

“So do I, Josiah. That’s why I want to do what is best for you.” His expression bleak, Luke nudged Emma. “Let’s go.”

“But—”

“Up.”

Catherine slid out and Emma followed suit. Luke stood and leaned close to Josiah’s ear. His voice was soft. “Say your good-byes. You’ll not be seeing each other again. I’ll go to Wichita to speak to Sarah’s father myself.”

Josiah flinched as if Luke had struck him. “Luke, no—”

Luke backed away. “Let’s go.”

Her heart a stone in her throat, Emma glanced back at Josiah. “I’m sorry.”

He put his arm around Sarah and smiled, a sweet, little boy smile. “Don’t be, schweschder. It’s not over yet.”

Then why did it feel like everything was ending?

T
he babble of many women’s voices met Thomas at his parents’ door. He smiled at the familiar sound. When he was growing up, quilting frolics were regular events at his house. It brought him comfort to think that some things never changed. Now Rebecca would learn to quilt, just as his sisters had. Just as Joanna had. The thought tasted bittersweet in his mouth.

“Daed, what are you waiting for? I get to cut the squares today, Groossmammi said.” Rebecca wiggled past him and pushed the door open. “Groossmammi, we’re here! Where are the scissors? Is there pie? Are the
aentis
here?”

Thomas chuckled. His daughter loved social occasions, just like her mother. She loved a good crowd, and the women loved her. They couldn’t resist her freckled nose, dimpled cheeks, and sunny disposition. His sisters took turns teaching her the things she needed to know. God provided what Thomas couldn’t.

He hesitated. Emma and her sisters might be there. He hadn’t thought to ask his mother if they were coming. With all that had been going on at the Shirack homestead, it seemed unlikely. He couldn’t decide if he would be disappointed if she weren’t in the room or relieved.
Stop procrastinating
. Thomas plunged into a room so filled with women, material, scissors, and his mother’s treadle sewing
machine, he could barely move. He quickly reconnoitered the room. No Emma. But Annie Shirack sat across from his Aunt Sophie, her head bent over a strip of multicolored squares.

“Thomas.” His mother bustled across the room, her hands fluttering. “Come say hello to everyone before you rush off.”

“I’m on my way into town for the horse sale.” He settled his hat on his head. He knew exactly what his mother was doing. “There’s a roan that looks good to replace Doc.”

“Two minutes.” She held up a plate of brownies. “I know you can’t pass up my apple brownies.”

She had a point. He selected the largest piece and let her take his arm and guide him through the room. Annie gave him a curious look.

“Annie, it’s good to see you out and about.” He glanced around. “Did Emma and Catherine come?”

Just the right touch of casual inquiry. And he’d remembered to include Catherine in the question. Just making conversation.

Annie shook her head. “Emma said she had too much work to do, but I think she was feeling blue today. I wish she would’ve come. The company would do her good. She needs to get out more.”

Something in the way she looked at him made Thomas examine her words for some inner message. What was she saying? Why didn’t women just say what they had on their mind? It would make life so much simpler. “I hope she feels better.”

His mother tugged on his arm. He started to move away. Annie inclined her head over her work. “I’ll tell her you asked after her.” Her words wafted after him.

Thomas tried to think what that meant. Nothing. Anything.

His sisters Molly, Elizabeth, and Delia had an assembly line going. One measuring squares, one cutting, and the other starting to pin them together. They were so similar in looks and nature, they could’ve been triplets. “You remember Helen Crouch, don’t you?”

Next to Molly sat Helen, a short, rather roly-poly woman he’d known since he was knee-high to his father’s breeches. As his mother knew. He’d grown up with Helen, just as he had all the women in the
room. Bliss Creek was a small town and the Plain people’s community even smaller. He inclined his head and greeted her. “How are you?”

Helen dropped her strip of squares and smiled. “Fine. I can’t complain when it’s God’s will for me. And yourself?”

He understood exactly what she meant. Her husband had died of a heart attack while pushing a plow three years earlier. Helen had four children to raise. She’d moved back into her parents’ home without a word of complaint. “Keeping busy.”

“That’s my motto. Keeping busy is the best medicine, that’s what George used to say.”

Thomas had worked side-by-side with George on more than one barn raising. Close in age, they’d played baseball as youngsters and fished at the river on many long summer nights. Thomas had attended their wedding. He remembered Helen as a bride, with the sparkle in her eye directed at her husband and no one else. “George was right about a lot of things. I know he felt very fortunate to be married to you.”

Helen’s eyes teared up. “That is very nice of you to say.”

“I only speak the truth.”

“Helen brought a cherry pie. It’s delicious.” Molly patted the woman’s arm. “You’re such a great cook. Try it, Thomas, it’s excellent.”

He held up the brownie. “Some other time, but thank you.”

Helen looked disappointed. She picked up several blocks of material, her head bent. “We’ll be having a hog butchering frolic soon. Be sure to come. My father is experimenting with some new feed for the pigs. He says they’re putting on weight faster. You should come by and talk to him some afternoon.” She ran the words together in a sudden rush. She stuck a pin in a blue patch of material. “
Ach
, got my finger.” Her cheeks tomato-red, she sucked on the tip for a second, then shook it in the air. “I suppose I better pay attention to what I’m doing.”

Thomas caught the tiny smile that played across Annie’s face. He stifled his own. “Yes, I guess you’d better.” He backed away, ignoring the triple threat stares of his sisters. They were always doing this. They meant well, and Helen Crouch struck him as a very nice woman. For
some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to find her interesting. He wished he could, but she wasn’t…Emma Shirack.

He headed toward the door.
Horses. Think horses
. His mother planted herself in front of him before he could get his hand on the doorknob. “Going already?”

She need not give him that look. Affairs of the heart should be private. “I’m short a horse since Doc died. I don’t want to miss that sale. I’ll swing by and pick up Rebecca on my way home. Don’t let her eat too much pie—it gives her a stomachache.”

Mudder grabbed his arm and accompanied him onto the porch. “Give Helen a chance,” she whispered. “She likes you. She said as much to Molly the other day.”

Thomas closed his eyes and summoned all his patience. “I’m a grown man. I don’t need a matchmaker.”