Her Restless Heart Page 7

  "Observe?"

  "Sit in, see what we do. You don't have to pay. Or take the quizzes," she added with a smile.

  Mary Katherine hesitated. "When is the class?"

  "Ten to eleven a.m. on Tuesdays and Thursdays." She pulled a business card from her purse and handed it to her. "Think about it and let me know what day is best for you. Oh, and I can send a driver to pick you up and bring you back."

  She looked at the card in her hand, then at the woman. "I'll think about it and let you know."

  "Great." The woman glanced at the clock on the wall. "Well, much as I'd like to browse for hours in here, I need to get back to campus. I have a ton of work to do."

  Her grandmother came out a little while later. "Still quiet out here?" She peered at Mary Katherine. "You look a little flushed. Are you feeling allrecht?"

  She still didn't know what to think of the visitor who'd walked out the door just a few minutes ago. "Wait until you hear who came in."

  "Not another Miller."

  Mary Katherine laughed. "No." She told her grandmother about the professor and how she wanted her to speak to the class.

  "I don't know why she thinks I have anything important to tell the students," Mary Katherine said.

  "Will you hide your light beneath a bushel?" Leah asked her quietly. "Child, I know that we teach—we live—working at not being filled with hochmut, with pride. But it's not prideful to share yourself and what you know with others, liebschen. You're not bragging about yourself, about your God-given gift, are you?"

  Mary Katherine shook her head. "Never."

  "And I've never known you to be self-important. As a matter of fact—"

  "What?"

  Leah sighed and reached out to touch Mary Katherine's cheek. "I love my bruder, but he is not an easy man to be around. You've blossomed here."

  Unbearably touched, Mary Katherine hugged her. "Danki," she whispered. "I was miserable on the farm."

  "It wasn't the farm, it was—"

  Conversation ceased as Naomi and Anna entered. They stopped when they saw their grandmother embracing Mary Katherine.

  "Is everything all right?" Naomi asked, looking concerned.

  "It's fine," Leah rushed to say. She stepped back from Mary Katherine. "Why don't you tell them your news while I make us some tea?"

  "News?" Anna grabbed Mary Katherine's hand and began leading her to the back room. She held up the bag she clutched in her other hand. "We got some more of those cinnamon rolls from the bakery. You can have the first one if you tell me your news."

  "It's hardly big news," Mary Katherine said.

  Anna stopped. "Does it have anything to do with the Miller family?"

  Mary Katherine and her grandmother exchanged a look. "No. Why would it?" She followed Anna into the kitchen, eager to find out what she knew about the Miller family coming into the shop this week.

  "They were in here a lot this week," Anna said as she got a plate from the cabinet and arranged the rolls on it.

  "So of course, Anna's imagination is running wild," Naomi remarked. But there was no censure in her tone. "Grossmudder, sit down, I'll get the tea."

  "Danki," Leah said with a sigh as she sat. "It's been a long morning."

  "You're sure there's no engagement in your future?" Anna persisted. She waved a roll under Mary Katherine's nose. "I can make you talk."

  "That works on you, not Mary Katherine," Naomi said, frowning at Anna.

  "True," said Anna, biting into the roll. Then, with a grin, she offered the plate of rolls to Mary Katherine.

  "It would be kind of hard hiding an engagement from you, don't you think?" Mary Katherine pointed out as she chose a roll and passed the plate to her grandmother.

  Naomi got mugs out, filled them with boiling water, and set one before each of them.

  Mary Katherine chose a tea bag—peppermint tea, her winter favorite—and passed around a bowl filled with a selection of tea bags.

  "So why do you think we all of a sudden had so many Millers in here, then?" Anna asked. "First Jacob and then all his sisters and his mother."

  Naomi gave Mary Katherine a sympathetic look. "She's like a dog with a bone."

  "I have no idea why they came. We did have a wonderful after-Christmas sale."

  Anna stared at her for a long moment, and then she burst out laughing. "Ya, I'm sure that was it."

  The shop door opened. Mary Katherine glanced out. "I'll take care of our customer."

  "Did you see who it is?" Anna could be heard asking. "Maybe it's another Miller."

  Mary Katherine shut the door behind her. "Wie geht's, Jacob," she said, smiling.

  "My mother loved her gift."

  He was struck again by that smile of hers. It had been worth the cold ride into town for that smile.

  "I thought the thimble was for her birthday."

  "I—decided to give it to her early." He felt the color creep up his neck. "So I need to get her something else."

  He started to look away, and then he realized that she was struggling to hide her smile. "What?"

  "What did you do?" she asked, covering her mouth with her hand. "You look so guilty."

  "I do not!" he protested. Then, as she continued to look at him, he shrugged. "It just seemed like a good time to give her a gift. And you can't do enough for your mamm, do you think?"

  He watched her smile fade and could have kicked himself. She'd never said much about either of her parents, but he didn't think they were as loving as his parents were. The Amish loved children, considered them a gift from God, but he had never seen any outward sign they appreciated Mary Katherine. Her grandmother, though . . . why she just adored Mary Katherine and her cousins.

  "What I mean is, most boys really make life interesting for their mothers, don't you think?"

  "I wouldn't know about boys," she said, sounding subdued. "But I don't remember you being like your brother."

  "I had my moments." Few, admittedly, compared to his brother. But he wasn't about to tell Mary Katherine how he'd managed to get his mother and one of his sisters upset with him this week.

  "I don't know what you want to spend, but I think your mother would really love this laptop quilting frame," she said, moving quickly to its display table. "She's looked at it quite a few times when she's been in, but like with the fancy thimble, she doesn't seem able to buy it for herself."

  It was a bit pricey. But as he thought about what he'd said— how you couldn't do enough for your mamm, especially when she had lost her mann and worked so hard to raise her brood without complaining. Had he been guilty of taking her for granted the way his sister had said he'd done with them? He'd had a good year with his crops. Why shouldn't his mamm have the quilting frame?

  "I think you're right," he said. "I'll take it."

  She smiled again. "Shall I gift wrap it for you? There's no charge."

  He nodded. "Danki. I think I'll look around a little more while you do that."

  "If you need any gift suggestions for your sisters, just let me know. I saw them looking at a few things this week."

  "You—what? When were they in?"

  "Well, I can't tell you the exact days each of them was here. But they were all in this week. Even your mother."

  He couldn't have moved if his life depended on it. All of them? Even his mother?

  "I had no idea. Do they all come in often?" He got his feet moving and followed her to the front counter.

  "No. That's why I thought it was kind of strange."

  Jacob remembered how he'd blurted out that he was thinking of someone when they were nagging him about finding a wife. As he'd left that day, he'd overheard his sister ask his mother about the thimble.

  So she'd obviously put two and two together and come up with five. So all of them had waltzed in here to see what they could find out. Since Mary Katherine was acting so casual, he figured his mother and sisters hadn't said anything to let her know what he'd said. Most Amish couples—not that Mary Katherine and he
were a couple—kept their relationship, their dating—quiet until they were engaged, so even if they had been thinking about more he doubted any of them would get anything from Mary Katherine, anyway.

  He watched her tear a piece of wrapping paper from a big roll behind the counter. She put the box on top of it on the counter and began covering it with the paper.

  "Here, give me your hand."

  Jacob held it out, not sure what she was after. She placed it on top of the paper to hold it closed, pulled a length of tape from a dispenser, and sealed the seam, doing the same with each end. His fingers tingled at the contact. He shoved them inside his pocket and tried not to let her know that her touch had affected him.

  "Danki," she said.

  "Wilkuum."

  She added a premade bow and set aside the package. When she looked at him, he realized she was waiting for payment. He counted out the bills and watched her write up his receipt.

  Books displayed on a shelf nearby caught his eye. He wandered over to look at them when he realized that they were spiral-bound cookbooks by a local Amish author.

  What could be better than a cookbook with authentic recipes for the kind of food he loved? As he flipped through the pages of the book, he saw recipes that didn't look so hard to make. He hoped.

  "I'll take this, too," he said, pulling out his wallet. It was already feeling a good deal lighter.

  "One of my grandmother's friends wrote that," she said, taking the money, making change, and then adding it to the receipt. "Who's the gift for?"

  She glanced up when he didn't speak. "I won't tell," she said, smiling.

  He watched the dimple that flashed in her cheek and wondered how he could find a way to spend more time with her as he tucked his wallet away.

  But just as he opened his mouth to ask if she'd like to have supper with him, the door to the back room opened and Naomi, Anna, and Leah came walking out. With a sigh he quickly repressed when Mary Katherine glanced up at him, he gathered up his packages and prepared to leave.

  "Do you want me to wrap the cookbook?"

  "Nee," he said. "It's not for a gift. Thanks for the help." He touched the brim of his hat to the others. "Gut-n-owed."

  Mary Katherine caught the almost avaricious look on Anna's face and knew for certain that an inquisition would ensue shortly.

  "Let me help you out to your buggy with these," she said brightly, reaching behind her for a shawl hung near the door.

  "I don't—" he started to say, but she slid her eyes toward the others, then gave him a beseeching look.

  "Danki, I appreciate that," he said.

  She quickly plucked up the cookbook she'd tucked into a shopping bag and marched toward the door.

  "What was that about?" he asked the moment they were outside.

  "Anna has been after me about why your sisters and mother were in this week," she said, taking a deep breath of the cold air.

  Jacob knew why, but he couldn't tell her. "She was always relentless, even as a little girl."

  "You remember Anna well," she said, laughing, and they shared a grin. "I won't escape the grilling she'll give me about why one more Miller came to the shop. I've merely postponed it. But at least I got away from her for a while."

  He placed the big box in the buggy, then turned to take the bag containing the cookbook from her. Their hands touched.

  "I know you said you don't date, but friends can have supper together, can't they?"

  Her smile faded as she caught his seriousness. "Yes," she said slowly. "I suppose so."

  "Maybe we can have supper some night?"

  She nodded.

  He grinned. "Great. Maybe Friday?"

  "I'm probably going out with Jamie on Friday. It's a regular thing for us lately."

  "For pizza?"

  "I—I don't know."

  "I wouldn't crash your supper."

  "No?"

  He shook his head, and his grin faded. "No. If you want to see me, you know where to find me."

  "Ya," she said, nodding, not smiling herself now. Something had passed between them, something she hadn't felt before. "Ya, I do."

  He climbed into his buggy and leaned back against the cushions. "Gut-n-owed."

  Mary Katherine sat at the table in the back room, glumly studying her notes.

  What makes you think you can talk to a class? A college class?

  She jerked her head up and glanced around. But she was alone in the room.

  Think you're too good to work on a farm, do you?

  No need to look up and around to see who spoke. She recognized the voice now. It was her father's. He'd chastised her for years for the way her teacher said she daydreamed in class, even though she'd overheard him saying he hadn't done well in schul himself.

  But he had repeatedly criticized her for not liking work on the farm and seemed to dole out the most unpleasant chores to her, to the point where she'd stopped complaining.

  Her grandmother had saved her by bringing her to work at Stitches in Time.

  "What's all this?" Naomi asked as she entered the back room of the shop.

  Mary Katherine moved some of her papers so that Naomi could join her at the table.

  "I'm making notes for my talk."

  "Ah, yes, the talk. I'm sure you'll do a fine talk."

  "I'm not so sure," Mary Katherine muttered, frowning at what she'd scribbled on index cards. "I'm no speaker."

  "No," Naomi agreed. She held up her hand and smiled when her cousin jerked to attention. "But you're a natural-born teacher. I saw how you taught that little girl how to make a potholder one day. And you're always explaining to people how to weave when they stop and ask questions. I think you love it."

  "I love to talk to people about what I love to do," Mary Katherine pointed out, meeting her cousin's gaze. "I don't know how many of the students in the fabric arts class are that interested in weaving."

  "I'd imagine the professor wouldn't have asked you if she thought you'd bore her class. And they're students interested in making clothes and such. Some of them might be very interested."

  Mary Katherine nodded. "I hope you're right. But if I see the students dozing off, I'm going to stop."

  Naomi laughed. "Okay, I don't see that happening, but if they do, ya, I guess it'd be a good idea to turn the class back to the professor. I'm sure she'll know how to deal with it."

  Propping her elbow on the table, Mary Katherine rested her chin in her hand and glumly studied her notes.

  What makes me think I can talk to a college class? she asked herself. I'm no expert.

  "Stop worrying," Naomi said, and on her way out the door, she stopped to lean down and kiss the top of Mary Katherine's head. "You'll do fine."

  "Do fine at what?"

  Mary Katherine looked up. "Hannah!" She glanced at the clock. "Is it that time already?"

  "Beginner's quilting at 2 p.m. and Advanced at 3." Hannah, who taught quilting at the shop, shed her coat and bonnet, hung them, then returned to the kitchen table.

  "How is Chris?"

  Hannah frowned. "He had to go to a funeral. Friend of his in the service. He'll be home this evening." She sighed as she eased down into a chair and rested her hand on her abdomen. "Phoebe is watching the kinner."

  "You glow."

  "I always feel like a whale at this stage, but thanks."

  "You really enjoy teaching, don't you?"

  She nodded. "It surprised me. I'd never thought about it, but then Leah needed someone when Fannie Mae couldn't do the classes anymore." She leaned forward to study the index cards spread over the surface of the table. "What's this?"

  "I've been invited to talk to a fabric arts class at the community college."

  Hannah's face lit up. "Oh, that's wunderbaar! You're going to talk to them about weaving?"

  "If I don't die of anxiety first."

  "You're a natural-born teacher. And a self-taught weaver."

  "Naomi was in here cheering me on earlier. Now you. If I can just tak
e the two of you with me on that day, maybe I'll do okay."

  Hannah patted her hand. "You'll do fine." She hauled herself to her feet. "Time for class."

  "Heard there was hot tea in here."

  "Jenny!" Mary Katherine smiled at her cousin Matthew's wife.

  "Am I interrupting?" Jenny gestured at the note cards.

  "Nee, come on in." She gathered up the cards, bound them with a rubber band, and set them aside.

  Jenny placed the folder she carried on the table, then walked to the stove. She held up a mug, asking Mary Katherine if she wanted more tea before pouring some for herself and coming over to sit down.

  She'd been a ghost of the woman she was now when she came here to Paradise to live with her grandmother. The bombing that had ripped at her body had scarred her soul as well, Mary Katherine knew. But as she renewed her relationship with Matthew—they'd fallen in love as teenagers here but been yanked apart by her father—Jenny had healed emotionally as well as physically. She had married Matthew, and just a few years ago, had even experienced what many thought was one of God's miracles when she had a baby.

  She carried a quiet contentment now, a serenity and inner spirit of joy that was more than physical beauty. Mary Katherine envied—just a little—that surety of purpose Jenny carried. Inside, Mary Katherine felt like a big jumble of questions and indecision.

  "How's Gabriel?"

  Jenny beamed, and her gray eyes sparkled. "Such a happy kind. It's hard to believe he's one year old already." She glanced at the folder she had placed on the table. "Thought I'd work while Hannah teaches her class. As long as I'm not bothering you?"

  "No, I was just taking a break to work on something for a few minutes. Did you come here with her?" The two women lived next door to each other and had grown as close as sisters since Jenny married Hannah's brother.

  She nodded. "I promised Chris I'd keep an eye on her while he's out of town. You remember how she started bleeding when she went into labor last time."

  Mary Katherine nodded. Hannah might have lost her baby if a man hadn't come along and delivered the baby—a man who had caused her and her husband, Chris, a lot of trouble.

  "Can I ask you something?" Mary Katherine blurted out.