David should have been looking at the letters, but he was having more fun watching the expressions of puzzlement, surprise, and wonder on Faith’s face.
She looked up and studied him for a moment as if he might know the answers to the questions twirling through her mind. She finally said, “Mary must have cared for him because she wrote to him as well.”
“And she sent him packages.”
“This should be easy to solve.”
“I’m not so sure.”
“The bishop in Ohio was Jeremiah. How many Jeremiahs are there?”
“I can think of four here in Shipshe.”
“But they’re not all bishops.” She said the last word slowly as if he was having trouble keeping up.
“All right, Sherlock . . .”
“Who?”
“Never mind. What other clues do you see?”
Faith scooted even closer so they could both read the pages at the same time. “I don’t know what CO means.”
“Don’t look at me.”
“It says here . . .” She allowed her finger to travel down the page and rest on the last paragraph. “Mary has a sycamore tree in the backyard and a glider swing.”
“Mary had a sycamore tree and a glider swing in the backyard. That solves it!” David bumped his shoulder against hers to show he was only giving her a hard time.
A buggy pulled into the drive-through area. Faith hopped up, slipped the letter back into the envelope, the envelope into the stack, and the stack and newspapers into the tattered box. “That’s my bruder. I have to go.”
“You’re leaving?”
“We can figure this out, David.”
“We can?”
“Yes. We will solve the mystery of the kudzu letters.”
“I’m as intrigued as the next guy, but maybe we should step back for a minute.”
Faith had been hurrying to the buggy, Pebbles fast on her heels, but she stopped abruptly and pivoted back toward him.
“What are you saying?”
“That perhaps we should drive over to Goshen and put the package back under those kudzu vines.” He couldn’t keep a straight face when she looked at him aghast. He started laughing, causing Pebbles to run back toward him and attempt to paw her way up his leg.
“We’ll do no such thing,” Faith said, slipping her purse strap over her shoulder.
“Ah, I know what’s happening now. Your imagination is coming up with some romantic reunion between two people we don’t even know.”
“I need to go. I don’t want to keep Micah waiting.”
“You want to get home and read the rest of the letters.”
Faith motioned to her bruder to wait, walked right up to David, and scooped Pebbles in her arms.
“I thought she was going to be a . . . What did you call it . . . companion pet?”
“She is.”
“So why are you taking her home?” They were standing so close that David could smell powder and soap and some flowery scent that must have been hand lotion. The combination was intoxicating.
“She’s too little to leave alone here now.” Faith lowered her voice and kissed the pup on top of the head.
David had nothing against dogs, but this one was claiming all of Faith’s attention.
“She’ll have to stay with me,” Faith added, glancing up at him and then away. “At least for a few weeks.”
Pebbles began to squirm in Faith’s arms. David took the dog from her, and they walked side by side toward Micah’s buggy.
Faith held the tattered box as if it were a priceless treasure. “Wouldn’t it be amazing if we could find the people these letters belong to?”
“I’m not sure that’s even possible.” His common sense was trying to assert itself, though he knew that was probably not what Faith wanted to hear. Still, better that she grasp the reality of the situation now than later. “You’re thinking of this as if it’s a page torn from a romance novel. Maybe this Mary—whoever she is—is better off never having received these letters.”
They reached the buggy, and Faith opened the door.
David leaned past her to greet her bruder. “Hey, Micah.”
“David. Surprised to see you here.”
“Not as surprised as I am to be here.”
If he’d hoped Faith had forgotten his comment about romance novels, he was sadly mistaken.
She turned on him now and asked, “What would you know of reading romances?”
“Nothing.” He took a step back. That’s what he got for teasing her. He should have known better.
“Uh-huh. Maybe you took a peek at one of the books your nieces were reading.”
“I don’t know what my nieces read.”
“Or maybe you have a habit of stopping by the library on your lunch hour.”
“Ha! I don’t take a lunch hour.”
Faith stared down at the box in her hands. “Who should keep it . . . You or me?”
David pretended to be perplexed, tilting his head left and then right. “We could give it to the bishop.”
“I heard he’s very busy this week.”
“Or I could take it home. Keep it safe until I see you at church on Sunday.”
“That’s a week away.”
“Or you could take it . . .” He lowered his voice, though Micah was pretending to be busy cleaning the dirt out from under his fingernails. “You could take it, and we could go to dinner tomorrow night and read the rest of them.”
“What?”
“Two people, eating together, at a restaurant.”
She pushed up her glasses, looked left, right, and finally into his eyes. “Are you asking me out on a date?” Her voice had dropped to a whisper, and a slight blush colored her cheeks.
“Would you say yes if I was?”
Faith rolled her eyes and laughed at the same time. David silently reminded himself that now was not a good time to get involved in a dating relationship, especially not with Faith Troyer. He never quite understood her moods, and he always felt a little off-kilter around her.
Then her eyes met his, a smile still playing on her lips, and his doubts slipped away. They had both found the box, so it made sense to see this through together—might as well do so at dinner.
“All right,” she said as if she was agreeing to see the dentist. “But not dinner—I’ve been wanting ice cream since last Friday.”
“I had the hot fudge blizzard. It was so good.”
“Don’t describe it to me. We don’t have any ice cream at home.”
“I hope you can wait until Friday.”
“Pick me up at six, and I’ll bring the box.”
“Don’t peek at the rest of the letters without me.”
She gave him a backhanded wave as she climbed into the buggy. He placed the beagle in her lap and watched them drive away.
Faith Troyer.
Ice cream.
A lost dog.
A mysterious box of letters.
And to think he had been enjoying how calm and predictable his life had become.
* * *
The day was turning out better than Faith had anticipated. The lethargy she’d been battling had fallen away. The fields looked greener, the spring sunshine brighter, and the days ahead more hopeful.
If she was honest with herself, she would admit that winter had been difficult. She’d turned down invitations from friends, avoided social gatherings, and spent much of her time at home alone. Perhaps she’d been too focused on herself. She could see that now because she was finally looking forward to something—to seeing David on Friday.
It was good to think about someone else for a change. Perhaps the mystery box was just what she needed.
“So . . .” Micah said.
“So?”
“David Lapp?”
“What about him?”
“Looked to me like you two were, you know, interested in each other.”
“Ha. Hardly.”
“So you’re going out with him Friday night because . . .”
Faith explained about the box of letters and how they were trying to figure out who they belonged to. She even pulled the top letter out and started to read it to him, but Micah stopped her with an upheld hand.
“Don’t drag me into your mystery.”
“Oh, please. As if you have better things to do.”
“I do.”
“Such as?”
“Taking you home and showering so I can pick up Naomi.”
“I like Naomi.”
“I do too.”
“Is it getting serious?”
Micah was four years younger than Faith, so she always felt strange when she thought of him marrying. It was bound to happen though. Most Amish did marry, and most married before they were her age.
“Define serious.”
“Are you going to ask her to be your fra?”
Instead of answering, Micah changed the subject. “What’s with the mutt?”
Pebbles had immediately fallen asleep on her lap. She made little yipping sounds as if she were chasing a rabbit in her dreams.
“Her name is Pebbles, and she’s going to be staying with us awhile.”
“Mamm’s not big on dogs in the house.”
“Which is why she won’t be in our house. I made her a bed in the barn. That’s where she’s slept since Friday.”
“You’ve had her since Friday?”
“Dat knew about her.”
“Uh-huh, but you haven’t mentioned it to Mamm. I can’t wait to hear her reaction.”
“I just worry that Pebbles would get lonely staying at the animal clinic.”
“She’s a dog.”
“Dogs have feelings too, Micah.”
“Don’t give me another animal lecture. Besides, you’re ignoring the subject.”
“Which is?”
“David.”
Faith sighed and looked out the window. Finally, she said, “My relationship with David—if you can even call it that—is complicated.”
“I know you dated him a while back.”
“It was one date. Four years ago, maybe four and a half.”
“So what happened?”
“He didn’t know about my claustrophobia.”
“Oh boy.”
“His idea of a perfect date was taking me to the fall festival.”
“That sounds gut.”
“And it was at first, until he insisted we go into the House of Mirrors.”
“Uh-oh.”
“Ya.” She didn’t want to think about that night. The memory still embarrassed her, but maybe it was time to move past it. She’d been working with the bishop for a long time now to learn to accept who she was—both her strengths and her weaknesses.
“To this day I can’t tell you exactly what happened, only that I ended up curled in a ball with mirrors all around me. When David found me, he started laughing. I’m still not sure which was worse—being in a complete panic or having someone laugh at my distress.”
“I’m sure he didn’t know.” Micah glanced at her, his eyes full of sympathy and that, more than the memory, caused Faith to tear up.
Pebbles, sensing her distress, whimpered and snuggled closer in her lap.
“Ah, now. Don’t cry. You know I have no idea what to do around crying females.”
Faith laughed and swiped at her cheeks. “Sorry.”
“So what happened next? After he found you curled in a ball in the corner of a fun house.”
“He helped me to the buggy. He practically had to carry me because I couldn’t make my legs work. Then he took me home. He had no idea what was wrong, though I think someone has clued him in since.”
“And after that?”
“He moved. His bruder invited him down to Virginia.”
“I remember him mentioning that. He learned how to do cabinetry work there.”
“He lived there a long time. He’s only been back since last fall.” Faith pulled off her glasses and rubbed her eyes, then slipped them back on. “Now when we’re around each other, he treats me as if I might break.”
Micah didn’t speak again until they were nearly home. As they pulled into the lane, he grinned and tipped his hat back. “You two certainly have an interesting background, but it doesn’t mean you can’t go forward. After all, think what a funny story it would be to tell your grandkinner someday.”
The thought of having grandchildren with David made her laugh. She was beginning to fear she was too old to have children, so grandchildren seemed like a distant dream.
“You’ll be having grandkinner years before me.”
“Stop trying to marry me off. I’m just a guy who likes a girl and hopes to have a nice evening with her.”
Micah helped her remember to enjoy life. And his girlfriend Naomi? Well, she would be a gut addition to the family if her bruder did ask her to marry him.
“Let me off at the barn.”
“I happen to be going there myself.”
As he unhitched Patches and set about caring for the horse, Faith took Pebbles into the stall she’d outfitted with a blanket in a crate, a food bowl, and a water bowl. She scooped some of the food she’d bought on Saturday into one bowl and stayed long enough to make sure Pebbles ate the entire thing. She was underweight, which could make a dog susceptible to all sorts of things. After Pebbles lapped up a good bit of water, she walked to Faith, sat, and cocked her head.
“I have to go.”
Pebbles dropped into a crouch and growled, then sat up and yipped.
“You’re a hoot.”
Spying her tail, the dog proceeded to chase it in circles until she fell over.
“Wear yourself out. I’ll see you first thing in the morning.”
She thought Pebbles might protest her leaving, but upon seeing Faith walk to the stall door, she tumbled over to her bed and sank onto the blanket.
“There’s no place like home,” Faith whispered.
Walking back into the main part of the barn, she realized she wasn’t ready to go into the house yet. She needed time to process the day’s events, so she looked around for something else to do. Micah had finished unharnessing and stabling the horse and had already gone to the house. Faith wasn’t ready to go inside. She wasn’t ready to face her mother. Her mind darted back to the argument they had the week before about her work. Mamm did not understand that circumstances were different for Amish women now than they were during her time.
She also didn’t understand that Faith’s anxiety practically disappeared when she was around animals. She’d learned to control it when surrounded by friends, but in the back of her mind she always worried she might have another attack. She couldn’t remember when her anxiety and claustrophobia had first presented itself. She’d discussed that at length with her counselor, but they’d never managed to pinpoint one traumatic event that might have caused it. Perhaps her condition had developed over time—the first symptoms had probably appeared when she was a young teen.
With animals, she never had to worry about saying or doing the wrong thing. She never felt awkward around a horse. She never wondered what to say to a dog, and cats—well, cats only required a quick scratch behind the ears.
Animals were easy.
People on the other hand, confounded her.
Dating had been especially difficult. She didn’t know whether to talk about her condition or not, and she always worried about what they were going to do for the date—if it would trigger another attack. Eventually, she found it easier to just say no, and after a while the young men in their community stopped asking. Which probably explained why she’d stopped dating, which in turn led to her working more hours at the clinic.
That’s what the argument with her mamm the week before had been about. Her mother thought she should work less and focus on her future—her future as a wife and mother. But she had no future as a wife and mother as far as she could see. Who would want to be married to someone like her?
She’d made the mistake of saying that to her mamm, who quickly reminded her that she was fearfully and wonderfully made.
And now she was stepping out with David Lapp.
Oh, her mamm would be thrilled. The problem would be explaining that they were simply two friends going out together. Mamm would never believe it wasn’t a blossoming romance.
Then again, maybe she should let her mother believe what she wanted.
Maybe it was okay if Mamm misconstrued the nature of the relationship. Perhaps it would take the pressure off for a little while. And it wasn’t lying—not exactly.
“We’ll just let her draw her own conclusions,” Faith said to Patches, whom she’d stopped to brush. Her dat purchased the mare three years ago. She was a lovely black with white patches on her front knees. “It’s not our fault if she concludes incorrectly.”
Patches actually nodded in agreement, or at least it seemed like she did.
Faith loved her mother dearly. She loved all of her family. It was just that since her twenty-fifth birthday the pressure had increased, and she wasn’t responding to it well. With any luck, one of her schweschders would announce another pregnancy soon. That always sent her mother into a knitting craze and distracted her from worrying over her youngest daughter.
Faith decided not to fret over her parents’ expectations. Instead, she thought of Mary and Peter and wondered if they could be people she knew.