A Marriage for Meghan (28 page)

Meghan nodded and silently pushed past him. She headed for the kitchen, carrying the pile of dirty linens, while he followed close on her heels. Once they entered the cheery room, she wheeled to face him with a far more benign expression. “I beg your pardon, Thomas. I’ve been rude and owe you an apology.” The bed linens had become her new protective barrier.

“Apology accepted,” he said after a short hesitation. He took a step back and tossed his sport coat over a kitchen chair. “I have a feeling you’re worried about young Owen Shockley. Please don’t be. You have my word your confession will go no further. I have no desire to make trouble for him. Believe it or not, I’m here to
help
your family and the community.”

As Thomas watched, her lower lip began to tremble. Then two large tears trickled down her cheeks. Soon her pretty face crumpled with misery. “I’m sorry I’ve been so snippy. I
was
worried about Owen and afraid I’d made another misstep in a long line of teacher missteps.” She wiped her face with her sleeve.

He settled into a ladderback chair, hoping to be less intimidating to the young Amish woman. “I can’t imagine you’ve made too many missteps, Meghan.”

She studied him as though gauging his sincerity. “Are you serious? I’m afraid I haven’t exactly proven myself a natural in my chosen vocation.”

He fought the impulse to laugh. Her confession, spoken in her charming
Deutsch
accent, sounded incongruous. “Every new job brings along a learning curve. No one excels at work during the first year. Trust me.”

She inched closer to the table but kept her shield in place. “Even you, Thomas?”

“Especially me. When I first started at the FBI, I messed up several times with protocol and departmental procedures, earning me a ribbing from other agents and a dressing-down from my superiors. I had egg on my face more than once at briefings.”

Her eyes brightened. “But they didn’t fire you? Lots of people are out of work these days.”

“Nope. Most employers would rather keep who they have than find somebody else and start from scratch. The school board must have thought you were worth training, or they wouldn’t have hired you in the first place.”

A slow smile began to grow. “That makes sense. Thanks, Thomas. I don’t feel quite so hopeless now.”

He offered his most sincere expression. “I would say your district hired the right woman for the job.”

For a moment, she buried her face in the laundry. When she looked up, her bashful blush had returned. “Don’t flatter me much or you’ll create a monster.” She turned and hurried out the door, pausing on the stoop. “Please let me know if there’s something you need. I want to make your stay comfortable.”

“Without feeling like a maid?” he asked, unable to stop himself.

“Please forget I said that. That was bad-me talking. I pray every night that the world sees less and less of her.” Then like a hummingbird, she was gone.

From his window Thomas watched her run back to the house, feeling a protectiveness he wouldn’t have thought himself capable of. He understood why James and John fawned so much over her. He could have had a little sister like Meghan if his parents hadn’t abandoned the Amish faith so many years ago.

Vague memories drifted back—memories that grew more muddled with each passing year. He’d been almost ten when his parents left, moving far from his Pennsylvania community and away from his friends, his grandparents, and the wonderful childhood he had known. Everything changed the day they moved to Cleveland. Thomas made new friends, attended high school, and played varsity sports. He’d gone on to college and was accepted into the FBI’s training program. He bought a sleek sports car with his first paycheck. He had never looked back—but he’d also never forgotten his safe, protected childhood.

He would make sure the Amish children of this district would have their fair share of happy memories. And he wouldn’t leave until that job was done.

C
atherine thought she saw movement in the backyard despite the fact everyone else had already left. Pulling back the kitchen curtain, she spotted their new renter in the bushes behind the
dawdi haus
. Amused, she watched him bend over a mass of lilac blooms. In and out his head bobbed as the man sniffed several different clusters. With her roaster of sliced ham cooling on the countertop, she walked outside to investigate.

“Have you no lilac bushes up in Cleveland?” she asked him, drying her hands on her apron.

He didn’t startle or even look surprised to see her. “Yeah, in residential neighborhoods with houses and yards. I live in a development of townhouses, where there are few flowering plants.” He straightened to his full height. “Good morning, Catherine. I just love the way these smell.”

“Good morning to you, Thomas. What kind of plants grow inside in your development?”

“Mainly very young trees staked to wooden sticks.”

She giggled, tying her
kapp
ribbons in the stiff breeze. “I’ve seen those in grocery store parking lots. The trees never seem to get any taller under all that restriction.”

The agent stepped away from the lilacs and gazed toward heaven. “Have you ever seen such a blue sky or clouds like that? Everywhere I look, things are sprouting or blooming or mooing. Everything is
alive
on your farm.” His grin filled his entire face.

“Sounds like you’ve caught a case of spring fever.” She liked this earnest
Englischer
—a man unafraid to show his human side.

“I have, but don’t try to cure me. Even though I’ll always be a city slicker, I have to admit that spring is a lot prettier in the country.”

Catherine nodded and bent low to inhale the fragrance of lilacs. “Out here we’re guilty of taking things like this for granted,” she said once she’d straightened up. “Come inside and eat. My
mamm
left a plate of food for you before she left. She said you were probably sleeping in.” Catherine began walking back toward the house. “Your investigation must be proceeding well, judging by your good mood.”

Thomas’ smile vanished with the mention of his case. “No, things are not going well. I have no leads. The evidence gathered at the quilt shop still hasn’t been processed, or at least I haven’t received the results yet.” He fell in stride beside her. “But when I awoke today and heard those birds singing outside my window, I decided nothing would ruin my Saturday. Did you know that a robin built her nest right outside my window? I hope the eggs hatch while I’m still here.”

When they reached the back porch, he offered her a hand on the steps. “Whether it be for eggs to hatch or leads to appear in an investigation, sometimes waiting is the hardest work we do.” She entered the kitchen, still fragrant from six different cooking and baking aromas.

“Well said, especially as patience isn’t my strong suit.” Thomas sat down in the chair he had occupied yesterday and pulled back the foil covering his breakfast plate. “Where is everyone? I can’t believe your house is this quiet.”

“Gone to a work frolic. My father and brothers loaded up tools in the wagon and left at dawn.
Mamm
and Meghan followed soon after with their sewing baskets and every scrap of fabric they could find. I was stuck behind to finish baking the ham and other things to eat. There will probably be more than a hundred people there today.” She busied herself tidying the kitchen so she could leave as soon as he finished eating.

“What kind of work are we talking about?” he asked after swallowing a mouthful of waffle.

“The ladies will be quilting all day—fifty or sixty of us. We’ll have several frames going at once. We won’t be able to finish all the quilts, but we’ll sure come close to replacing those destroyed in the quilt shop attack. That way the widows won’t lose their source of income. They can complete them one at a time.” She poured coffee into a travel mug to take along. “The men will be rebuilding the produce stand at the Glen Yoder farm. That is where the quilting bee will take place too.”

“Killing two birds with one stone?” He tore a piece of toast in half.

“That’s a bad analogy, considering your new friend and neighbor, the robin.”

He laughed. “You’re right. I keep forgetting I’m dealing with two schoolmarms. I had better watch my
p
’s and
q
’s.”

“While you’re living here, Thomas, I’d like you to do me a favor.”

“Name it, Miss Yost. I’m in your family’s debt.” He dabbed the last of the maple syrup with his toast.

“Please correct my pronunciation of English words. We Amish learn many words through reading that we never hear
Englischers
use in conversation. It’s embarrassing for a teacher to find out she’s been mispronouncing certain words in class.” Catherine moved the food containers closer to the door.

“I won’t hurt your feelings?”

“Absolutely not. I just found out that ‘relatives’ does not rhyme with ‘the natives.’ I had the accent on the wrong syllable and was using a long
a
sound. I’d been saying it wrong my whole life.”

“Agreed.” He stood and handed her his plate. “And in exchange for my services as a linguist, I’d like you to do something for me.”

“What it is? My family wants to help you any way we can.”

“I’d like to spend the day keeping tabs on what’s going on, to see if the frolic draws any uninvited guests or people watching from across the road. Anything or anyone suspicious.”

“You’ll be doing surveillance at a quilting bee?”

“In an informal sort of way. I just want to listen and learn.”

She slipped on her outer bonnet. “I thought Saturday was your day off.”

“If the Amish are working, then so am I. And I won’t even charge the taxpayers for the overtime.” He picked up the heavy roaster of ham. “I’ll rest tomorrow, same as you.”

“All right, you can come, but are you sure you want to go like that?” She pointed at his clothes.

Thomas peered down at his dress slacks, crisp blue shirt, and polished shoes. “I wouldn’t exactly blend in, would I?”

She shook her head. “Do you wish to dress Amish?”

He thought for a moment. “No. If I do that, everyone will expect me to know what I’m doing with a saw and hammer. But if I dress like an English neighbor, folks won’t expect too much. They’ll just assume I’m just another lazy
Englischer
.”

Catherine grinned but didn’t disagree. “We’ll ride in your car?”

“Yes. I’ll carry this out for you, and then if you’ll give me just a couple of minutes to change, I’d appreciate it.”

By the time she had loaded up the rest of the food and grabbed her purse she saw him heading in her direction. The man might not know how to rebuild a market, but he did keep his word. Within five minutes he’d changed into jeans, a flannel shirt, a ball cap, and hiking boots that looked surprisingly well broken in. “Much better, Thomas. You’ll pass for any other man of leisure.”

He kept his end of the bargain by explaining that “leisure” didn’t have three syllables.

Surprisingly, Thomas didn’t drive fast like most
Englischers
. Instead he waved faster cars around them while he appreciated the spring landscape. Catherine relaxed in the passenger seat and studied the plowed fields where crops were already poking up from fertile soil. “I’ll arrive much sooner than I’d planned and be able to help quilt before lunch.”

“Wouldn’t your food have been otherwise late if you’d taken your horse and buggy?” he asked, slowing down to allow a truck to pass safely.

“Lunch will be sandwiches, chips, and fruit—light food. Our main meal will be supper when the work is done. Then we’ll put out the big spread. If there’s one thing we Amish love, it’s eating.”

“I’m afraid we English don’t plan much either that doesn’t involve some kind of meal. I believe it’s an American tendency.”

She nodded, noticing few Amish buggies on the road. Everyone must have already arrived at the frolic. “It will be warm today for April. I can’t believe the school year is almost finished.”

“Will you be teaching in the fall with your sister?”

“No. We’re hoping the school board will hire Meghan by herself.”

“And what will you do, Catherine, if I may be so bold?”

“I plan to marry Isaiah Graber in the next wedding season. He’s presently away at a school for the deaf. But when he returns, we plan to announce our engagement.”