Atlee knelt next to the woman covered in flour. “Are you okay?” He didn’t think she’d hit the floor that hard, but he liked to err on the side of caution. “Did you break anything?”
Flour sputtered out of her mouth. “Only mei dignity.” She started to get to her feet. He held out his hand to help her up, but she ignored it. “I’m fine,” she mumbled as she stood. She shook her head, and flour floated to the floor like powdery snow.
He grimaced. Not exactly the best way to make a first impression in Birch Creek. He’d called a taxi to take him from the bus station in Barton to Thomas’s address. The driver, who looked to be barely old enough to drive, said he knew how to find where Thomas lived. After getting lost for nearly half an hour, Atlee asked the kid to drop him off in front of this house. When he saw a small business sign in the window, he decided to break down and ask for directions or he’d end up roaming around the county all night.
What he hadn’t counted on was knocking over the very first person he met.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t realize you were on the other side of the door.”
She brushed her hands over her face, pale with white flour. Some of it had settled into the wrinkles at the corners of her blue eyes, which, along with the streaks of gray running through the brown hair peeking out from underneath the top of her kapp, hinted that her age might be close to his. Without thinking, he reached out and brushed off one of her shoulders, then jerked his hand back. “Sorry,” he said again.
The woman sighed as she shook more flour off her dress. Then she looked up with a half-smile. “It’s all right.” Her tone was softer now. “Can’t help that it was an accident. That seems to be the way of things around here lately.”
Atlee found himself smiling back. He was glad she wasn’t that upset. “I’ll replace the flour.”
She waved him off. “I’ve got plenty more in the pantry. You probably saved me from spilling it on the way home.” A shadow passed over her eyes, but only for a second. With a bright smile she said, “Welcome to Yoder’s Bakery.”
He looked around, noticing the gas ovens in the back of the house, which appeared to be stripped down to two large rooms. The one in the back was obviously the kitchen. It housed appliances and two large stainless-steel worktables. The room they were standing in was expansive, as if walls had been removed to create the space. Near the front door was another counter and what he assumed were two display cases, with plenty of room for lots of baked goods. Yet there wasn’t a pie or cake to be seen.
“As you can see, we’re not open for business yet. But we will be soon. Sorry I don’t have anything to sell you.”
“I’m not looking to buy anything. I’m a little . . . lost.” Not something he could easily admit, but since he’d already embarrassed himself, there was no turning back now. “I’m looking for Thomas Bontrager’s haus.”
“Oh, then you’re not that lost.” She licked her floury lips, then made a disgusted face before wiping the back of her hand over her mouth. “He’s three houses down.”
Figures. “I should have kept walking. Then I wouldn’t have—”
“Turned me into a lump of flour?” She looked at her hands, which were spotted white. After she brushed her palms together, she held out one slightly cleaner hand. “I’m Carolyn Yoder.”
Atlee shook her hand, surprised by her firm handshake. He wasn’t used to a forthright woman. The women in his district were more subdued, and May had been the most subdued of all. She’d been petite. Soft. Quiet. Even timid at times. “Atlee Shetler,” he said. “I’m a friend of Thomas’s.”
She gestured for him to follow her, walked to the sink in the kitchen, turned on the water, and started washing her hands. “Nice to meet you.” Then she splashed water on her face. Eyes closed, she turned off the tap and reached for the towel hanging on a hook nearby. When she kept missing it, he moved to hand it to her. “Danki,” she said, patting her face dry. “I can show you the way to Thomas’s if you’d like. I live near the Bontragers’, and I was on mei way home when . . .”
“I knocked you over.” Now that her face was clean, he could see she was a rather striking woman. Possibly downright beautiful in her younger years. He blinked. He hadn’t noticed a woman’s looks since May died. “I can help you clean up this mess.”
“I won’t take long,” she said as she lifted the broom leaning against a wall of the kitchen and a dustpan from a peg beside it. She moved to the front area of the store.
“Allow me,” he said as he caught up with her. Sweeping up the flour was the least he could do. He took the broom and went to work.
“You don’t have to do that.”
He ignored her and kept sweeping. “Dustpan?”
She gave it to him, and he made quick work of the pile of flour before dumping it into a trash can in the kitchen. He handed the broom and dustpan back to her.
Instead of looking grateful, she seemed annoyed. “As I said before, you didn’t have to help me. I’m capable of cleaning up mei own bakery.”
“I’m sure you are.” He frowned. He hadn’t meant to offend her. He also noticed a smudge of flour on her left cheek, but considering he’d irritated her, he didn’t think it was a good idea to point it out.
She hung the broom and dustpan on the pegs and then turned to him. “I’ll show you how to get to Thomas’s.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
As she locked the front door, against his better judgment he asked, “Are you putting in a glass door?”
“What do you mean?”
“Usually businesses have glass doors instead of solid wooden ones. More inviting that way.”
“Oh. I hadn’t thought about that.” She whipped a small pad and pencil out of her apron pocket, scribbled something down, and then tucked it back in the pocket. “Danki for the idea.”
“You’re welcome.”
He followed her to the end of the driveway. “The Bontragers are on the left,” she said, pointing south. You’ll probably see a pack of buwe playing in the front yard.”
Atlee nodded. “Thomas does have a large familye.”
“Do you know him well?”
“He and I were friends when his familye lived in Fredericktown. He asked me if I wanted to come out here for a visit. I finally took him up on his offer.”
Carolyn nodded. “And yer wife?”
His head dipped as he touched his beard. He couldn’t bring himself to shave it off. “Passed. A long time ago.”
“Oh.” Her features softened. “I’m sorry.”
He was used to hearing such sentiments. “Danki,” was all he could say.
“I’d better get home.” She put her hands on her hips. “Mei bruder and his familye are expecting me for supper. I keep telling them I can fend for myself when it comes to meals. Been doing it for a long time now.”
He nodded, a bit curious. Was she widowed too?
“Oh nee.” She scowled. “I forgot my purse.” She reached in the pocket of her apron for the keys. “Don’t wait for me. Geh on and see yer friends.” She started to head back to the bakery.
“Danki for showing me the way,” he called out to her.
She waved and went back to the house.
Atlee paused, watching as she unlocked and opened the door, then disappeared inside the small bakery. Nice woman, and unlike him, she’d made a good first impression. For some reason, that made him smile.
Carolyn cringed at her reflection in her brother’s bathroom mirror. She thought she’d removed all the flour from her face back at the bakery, but there was still a smudge on her cheek. She leaned over and washed her whole face. As she patted it dry with a hand towel that smelled like it had just come off the clothesline, she looked in the mirror again.
She didn’t usually take much time to focus on herself, especially now that she was older. Mostly she used a mirror to make sure she looked halfway presentable. But lately she’d noticed the years creep up in the wrinkles and creases on her skin. She wasn’t a vain woman, but a pink hue formed on her cheeks as she suddenly thought of Atlee.
He seemed like a nice man. Handsome too, and from the patches of gray in his beard, she could tell he was near her age. Since he had a beard, she’d assumed he was married. And perhaps he thought he was, even in his wife’s death. He wouldn’t be the first person to lose a spouse and stay loyal to the memory of their marriage.
What was she doing, thinking so much about Atlee? That wasn’t like her. She’d come to terms with her singleness a long time ago, much like Cevilla Schlabach, the elderly but spry woman who moved here while Carolyn was away. Although she’d kept her distance from most of the women in the community so far, she’d gotten to know Cevilla a little bit. They were two single women in a town filled with married women and an overflow of young bachelors. Like Cevilla seemed to be, she was content with her life. Except for the bakery right now. But once that was launched and successful, she would be happy, truly happy, for the first time in her life.
She hung up the towel and went downstairs. Supper smelled heavenly, and her stomach started to growl. “Meat loaf?” she asked, going to Mary, who was pulling fresh rolls from the oven. She’d forgotten the ones she intended to bring home! But these looked good enough to sell in the bakery. She’d have to mention that to Mary. Her sister-in-law was welcome to sell anything she’d like—except donuts. Those were off-limits. “What do you need me to do?”
Mary set the cookie sheet on top of the stove. “Nix. Judah made the salad a little while ago, and the potatoes are already whipped.” Mary turned and looked at the table. “Oh. You could pour the drinks.”
“Sure thing.” Carolyn went to the gas-powered fridge and got out the milk and iced tea. Judah, the youngest Yoder, was the only one who still drank milk. The older boys, Seth and Ira, drank tea like the rest of them. All three boys were outside with their father, helping him finish up the day’s farm work.
“How was yer day?” Mary asked as she put the rolls in a tea towel–lined basket.
Carolyn set down Judah’s glass of milk. “Every time I turn around, something’s wrong with the building.” Oops. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have bought such an old haus,” Mary said, giving her an overly sweet smile.
Carolyn blanched, mentally reminding herself to keep her mouth shut about her problems. But she had to acknowledge that Mary was right, and Mary had tried to warn her about purchasing the property too. So had Freemont. But she’d been so excited to find a place within walking distance of her home. The allure of a short commute, not to mention the eagerness of the seller—who had wanted to get rid of the house, given her a good deal, and told her converting it to anything she wanted would be “easy-peasy”—had clouded her decision a bit. Okay, a lot.
Also, she hadn’t thought about how the road in front didn’t get much traffic. Some families like the Chupps and the Bontragers, who at least had a passel of kids, lived on this road, but unless word of mouth alone could make her business successful, she’d have to figure out how to attract other customers. And now Atlee had pointed out the need for a new door. There was another hit to her dwindling bank account.
“It will be okay, though,” she said, injecting as much confidence into her words as possible. Not only for Mary’s benefit, but for her own. She wouldn’t admit defeat.
“Carolyn,” Mary said, her tone a little sharp. “I don’t understand why you won’t accept any help.”
She turned Judah’s milk glass, pretending to be concerned with how it sat on the table.
Mary sighed, walked over, and put one hand on her shoulder. “You moved back to the community, but you refuse to be a part of it.”
Carolyn stiffened. Yes, she held herself at a distance from everyone here. But she had her reasons. Although Birch Creek had plenty of new residents, and some of the former ones had left, enough people here remembered the past to make her uncomfortable. She didn’t want them to see the old Carolyn, who had been rebellious and petulant, at least according to Emmanuel Troyer, the former bishop. She would prove to them, and herself, that she had changed. Making her bakery a success would go a long way in doing that.
And if she asked for help now, everyone would know about all her problems. Just thinking about her failures being public made her chest tighten.
Her brother and nephews came in, and she let out a breath as Mary went back to the stove. As Carolyn had thought with her nieces, she couldn’t believe how much her nephews had grown, and not just physically. Seth, who was eighteen, had taken on more of the farm’s responsibilities. Ira, sixteen, was quiet, but had a sweet personality. Judah, eight, was more rambunctious and adventurous, but he pitched in without complaint. Yes, her brother had a great family, and she was grateful he’d made her a part of it.
After everyone had washed up and taken their seats, they bowed their heads in silent prayer. Carolyn didn’t focus on asking God to bless the food. Please make mei bakery a success had been her prayer ever since she’d come back. So far God seemed to be doing the exact opposite.
“Something wrong?”
She opened her eyes to see Freemont looking at her. “Nee,” she said, forcing a smile. “Everything’s wonderful.”
He raised a skeptical brow but didn’t say anything further.
Carolyn focused on her supper, listening to the chatter of the boys as they inhaled the meat loaf, potatoes, stewed tomatoes, homemade pickles, and fresh rolls with butter, then asked for seconds. When she looked up, she saw Mary and Freemont exchange a soft glance. She felt a tiny pinch in her heart, but it wasn’t envy. Longing, perhaps. But that was quickly replaced with peace at being surrounded by family.
After helping Mary clean up, she went outside and sat on the patio, looking at the stars and sipping a cool glass of lemonade. She enjoyed this time of night when she usually settled in and had personal time with the Lord, something she’d been too busy to do much of lately. Her days and evenings had been filled with working, thinking, and, yes, worrying about the bakery. “Do not be anxious about anything . . .” She knew the verse from Philippians well, but she couldn’t seem to apply it lately. She also missed having time to take long walks and commune with nature, which had always been one of her favorite things to do. Instead she felt like she was balled up in a knot most of the time.
“Am I intruding?”
She turned and saw Freemont standing behind her, what looked like a mug of steaming coffee in his hand even though it was still hot outside. “Nee,” she said, gesturing to the seat next to her. “Of course not.”
He sat down and took a sip. From his side profile she could see he was pensive. Uh-oh. When her brother looked like this, she knew he had something weighing on his mind. “Are you all right?” she asked.
He looked startled at the question. “Ya. I was about to ask you the same thing.”
“Again?” She looked out into the yard. “I already told you everything is fine.”
“Then why are you so worried?”
He could be so annoying, especially when it came to recognizing her moods so easily. She wanted to tell him to mind his own business. But she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t lie to him either. “I’m just going through a rough patch. That’s all.”
“About being back home?”
She paused. Home. Nappanee had been her home for eighteen years, and she had expected to miss it. But she didn’t, despite the reminders of the past still here in Birch Creek that should make her want to go back to Indiana. “Nee. I’m . . . glad to be home.” Another honest answer, but she wasn’t going to elaborate.
“Gut.” He tapped on the side of his mug. After a long silence he said, “If you ever want to talk about what’s bothering you, I’m here.”
She chuckled. “You’re offering to have a meaningful discussion with yer little schwester?” She gave him a side look. “How things have changed.”
He grinned, although he looked a little uncomfortable. “I’ve changed because I’ve had to. Being responsible for the community does that to a person.”
That made her sober immediately. “I can see that. You’re doing well, Freemont.”
He didn’t look at her. “I appreciate you saying that. It’s only because of the Lord’s help.”
“The Lord knows gut character. And a gut heart.”
He drained the rest of his coffee and stood. She could see he was pleased, and she knew he was too humble not to change the subject. “Better get to bed,” he said. “Sunrise comes early in the summer.”
She nodded, grateful for his company and his decision not to bring up the past. She wasn’t ready to talk to him about it, and he seemed to accept that. “Gute nacht.”
Carolyn lingered outside after Freemont left. Despite her brother’s discretion, her memories came to the surface. She gripped her glass and pushed them down. But she knew from experience that no matter what she did, they were never far from her mind.