ROB WAS STILL familiarizing himself with the layout of the rehab center and its work in patients’ lives. To him, it seemed like workers were more intent on paining the patients than helping them out. But then he looked to where his da sat panting in a chair after doing a short walk on his new leg.
“Are you all right, Da? Are they pushing you too hard?”
His grandfather laughed, a sound Rob hadn’t heard in a long time.“It takes pain to produce growth, sometimes, Robbie. Remember that.”
Rob nodded and spoke low. “You mean the pain I caused you when I told you about Katie and Clara and me leaving the Amish?”
Da cleared his throat. “Nope, that’s not pain; that’s love, and how Derr Herr works it is His own business. Besides, I like Katie. She took real gut care of me.”
Rob couldn’t help the surge of pride he felt in Katie’s skills as a nurse and her compassion as a person.
Then his da spoke again. “Though tellin’ your mamm—well, she might not see things as being all right in paradise.” The old man laughed wryly at his own joke, and Rob frowned a bit. How exactly am I going to tell my mother? It was a question he still needed to pray on.
Tabitha led Letty upstairs to her room so that they could speak in private, but her heart was pounding in distress as she tried to imagine what her friend had done.
They entered her bedroom and Tabitha went to open the window, letting in the cool spring breeze that refreshed her for a moment and gave her renewed strength. She turned to Letty and sat down on the edge of the bed, patting a space beside her.
“Kumme, Letty, sit down.”
But Letty had pulled out a white handkerchief and was wiping at her cheeks. “Ach, I can’t.”
Tabitha frowned slightly. “Letty, what is it?”
“Oh, Tabby, I didn’t realize . . . I thought she was changed and truly being my friend, so I told her.”
“Her, who?”
Letty sank to the floor. “Barbara Esch,” she whispered.
“What?”
“Ya,” Letty sobbed.
“Well, what did you tell her?” Tabby demanded.
“Everything.”
“You mean about me and Rob and John and—”
“Ya,” Letty mumbled miserably.
“But you don’t even know the truth, Letty!”
“I thought I did.”
Tabitha bounced on the bed in temper. “Well, you didn’t.” Then she drew a deep breath and realized that this was her best friend sobbing on her floor, and she came off the bed and sat down next to the other girl.
“Letty, why didn’t you simply ask me what the truth was? Don’t you know that I love you, no matter what?”
Her friend regarded her seriously for a long moment. “Tabby, would you have told me the truth if I asked for it?”
Tabitha bowed her head. “Nee, probably not at first. I became ensnared in lies, like a moth in a barn spider’s web. But I’ll tell you everything now because I want nothing more between us.”
Letty flung herself against Tabitha in response, nearly knocking them over together.
Tabitha had to laugh as she hugged her friend, knowing that no matter what Barbara Esch thought she knew, she’d never come between the love that Tabitha and Letty shared.
Elizabeth watched the two girls bustle about the kitchen with a feeling of joy in her heart. It was so pleasant to feel the energy and hope of youth, and she sensed a renewed kinship between Tabby and Letty that she couldn’t explain but understood nonetheless.
Tabby was intent on making a feast for John and Matt Miller, and more than once Beth’s eyes strayed to the well-worn recipe box, sitting on the table. She hoped that John Miller was the love of Tabitha’s heart, but she still didn’t know for sure. She idly stroked Rough, the puppy sitting on her lap, as she called out ingredient amendments to Tabby’s casserole of pork-stuffed apples.
“All right, Aenti Elizabeth, we’ve got the apples ready . . . how does the stuffing work?”
Elizabeth smiled to herself as she remembered the day she was twelve and had learned to make the hearty dish. Her grossmuder had been lovingly firm when giving directions and had not even scolded when Beth had forgotten to core two of the robust apples.
Now her smile extended to Tabby. “The stuffing is simple, really. Just chop up that pork we had the nacht before last—make it real fine, as fine as you can. And Letty, you fetch the raisins and bread crumbs.”
“What do we moisten it with?” Tabby asked. “Milk?”
“Nee,” Beth laughed. “Maple syrup, and don’t be light on the hand with it either. The more the better. You can always add a bit more pork.”
She watched as they scurried to do as she instructed and noted that Tabby kept glancing at the clock. “Don’t worry, child. You’ve got plenty of time for the getting of lunch, or dinner as they used to call it in my day. Supper was at evening.”
“I promised them rhubarb pie,” Tabby admitted.
“Then they’ll have it,” Elizabeth smiled. “Say a little prayer that Derr Herr will slow the clock down for you to finish your handiwork, and you’ll see that you get everything done.”
“Ach, Aenti Beth.” Tabby bent near her. “I do cherish you.”
“And I you, dear. Now keep on!” Elizabeth encouraged just as Fram entered with a string of perch.
“You’ll clean those outside, Fram. The girls are working in here to minister to the Miller family and we don’t have time for blood in the sink,” Elizabeth asserted, ignoring her bruder’s stamping feet as he turned and went back outside without a word.
All three women in the kitchen giggled faintly and then returned to work. By 11:30 a.m. Tabby had everything loaded in a large wicker picnic basket.
“Add a thermos of that fresh lemonade, child,” Beth instructed. “And then everything will be perfect.”
Tabby obeyed, and the girl left with Elizabeth’s approving blessing upon her.
Everything looks perfect, John thought glumly. Yet how am I supposed to eat when Bishop Esch left here with my heart and appetite with him? I have got to leave here as soon as Daed is well. Then the insidious thought came to him that his fater might not recover, and it would be left for John to be the main supporter of the family and he couldn’t do that living a hundred miles away. Yet how could he live in Paradise if Rob and Tabitha married?
“John.” Her soft voice made him turn from where he stood by the table.
“Ya?”
“Are you troubled about your fater? You’re going to go tonight and visit, right?”
“Yes, that’s all, Tabitha. I’m only thinking of Daed—and how gut everything looks, of course.”
“I’ll say,” Matt observed, completely oblivious, John knew, to the turmoil he was in.
John helped with almost mechanical hands to unload the hamper as dish after dish appeared, each assailing the senses with both delicate and rich scents. When they were finished, Tabitha brought the silverware and the blue-rimmed white dishes from the cabinet. John told her where the cloth napkins were kept and tried not to study her trim form as she moved between the table and the drawer of the oak hutch.
They sat for silent grace, and then Matt enthusiastically began to fill his plate. “I’ll take this with me out to the wood shop,” he announced, and John threw him a desperate look that he seemed to ignore or misinterpret. And then Matt was gone out the screen door, leaving John exactly where he both did and did not want to be—alone with Tabitha.
Matt came in for seconds while John had barely seemed to touch his plate, Tabitha noticed worriedly. She wanted to ask if the food didn’t meet with his approval but felt the lump in her throat was too tight to actually speak.
“John, some gut-lookin’ English woman’s out there,” Matt mumbled, his mouth half full. “About the desk.”
Tabitha couldn’t help but meet John’s blue eyes and noticed that they’d darkened at his bruder’s slang. Then John looked straight at her. “Want to kumme with me?”
“Ya,” she said, feeling breathless. “Of course.” But why did he ask me? How am I supposed to deal with some woman who’s gut-lookin’—and what does that mean exactly to a man?
She followed John outdoors into the sunshine which glinted reflectively off the bumper of a shiny red car. Tabitha then saw the woman—a girl, quite a bit older than herself, she imagined, but wearing a fitted T-shirt and faded blue jeans. Her blonde hair was loose and hung past her shoulders and her brown eyes were darkened with makeup—which Tabitha had to admit she found a bit intriguing.
The woman extended a hand to John, which Tabitha saw he took in a brief grasp. Tabitha merely got a nod.
“I’m Joy Evans,” the woman’s red lips seemed to purr as she gazed up at John. “I’ve come to check on my desk.”
Tabitha watched John nod and realized for the hundredth time how truly handsome he was—apparently even to a woman from the English world. But he has so much more than looks—a kind heart, a loving attitude toward his family, a loyalty to his friend. Tabitha derailed her thoughts and trailed along after Joy, feeling like she’d rather be in the house, especially when the woman stopped for a moment to gaze critically at her.
“Is this your wife?”
“I’m not married,” John replied, inching a neatly carved desk forward.
“Oh . . . that’s nice.” Joy smiled with a brilliance that Tabitha found unnatural somehow. “I must admit that this little girl looks hardly more than a child—certainly not like a wife, though I’ve heard that the Amish marry young.”
Tabitha immediately resented the question and answered coolly before John could speak. “Some Amish marry young—others wait late to marry until they’re about your age.” She regretted her unkind words as soon as they were spoken but also didn’t miss the laugh John quickly suppressed into a cough.
Joy merely looked annoyed. “Well, thanks for letting me know, honey. Now why don’t you run in the house while I discuss price with this fine man?”
Tabitha turned to go, not meeting John’s eyes—she’d been naughty enough to mention the other woman’s age and felt that the least she could do was go and clean up as penance.
Matt was still eating when she stepped inside and shut the screen door with a click.
“That woman have a go at John?” Matt asked, munching pie and gesturing with his fork.
“Wh—what do you mean?” Tabitha asked as she started to pick up the napkins to take home and launder later.
“Ach, you know—think she could get a date out of him or whatever . . .”
Tabitha shrugged. Yes, that’s probably exactly what Joy was doing even now. “I don’t know.”
Matt laughed. “Well, shouldn’t you know? I mean—you are courting, right?”
Tabitha handed him the plate of raisin-filled cookies that complemented the stuffed apples. “I forget that all the youth know that.”
“Right about now, everyone probably knows that—except my bruder, who’s heading off for the hills as soon as Daed gets better. You know, you could learn a trick or two from that English woman and not let him go.” Matt pointed his fork at her.
“Like what?”
To her bewilderment, Matt’s incorrigible face flushed red and he dropped his gaze. “Ach, never mind, Tabitha . . . Here, let me help you clear up. This was a wunderbar meal.”
Tabitha puzzled over his words in her mind and wondered to herself if there truly might be a way to get John to stay in Paradise, but without resorting to the worldly tricks Matt had pointed out to her.