A Marriage for Meghan Read online

  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.

  Thirteen

  Saturday

  Catherine 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.”

&nbs
p; 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.”

  He took his focus from the road long enough to offer a toothy smile. “Best wishes to you. Mr. Graber is a lucky man.”

  “Luck had nothing to do with it,” Catherine corrected. “And I trust you’ll mention nothing of this while you’re mingling with the crowd today. Most people suspect our intentions, but nothing is official yet.”

  “My lips are sealed.” He ran his thumb and index finger across his mouth.

  “Danki for that.” She noticed Thomas glancing at a black box on the dashboard that displayed the route to the Yoder home. She wondered if Englischers had a gadget for everything in life. “And what about you?” she asked. “Are you married, Agent Mast? Since you were nosy, I will be too.”

  “No wife, and presently no serious girlfriend. I just broke up with someone.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. None of us are getting any younger,” she teased.

  Thomas laughed. “You’re right about that, but my former girlfriend wasn’t the right one. At least, that’s what my mother kept telling me.”

  “Amish mothers often say the same exact thing.” Catherine spotted the Yoder farm on the right just as the black box announced they had reached their destination. “I agree. It’s better to wait than chance the consequences of hasty action.”

  Thomas parked under a shady tree, close to the house and away from the long queue of buggies. People milled everywhere like ants around their proverbial hill. The rough framing of two walls of the new market were being assembled on the ground, while two other walls were already standing. So many Amish men hovered around the building that they had to be getting in each other’s way.

  “This is quite a turnout,” he said. He stretched out his back muscles next to the car.

  “Please open the trunk. I want to put the food in the house and start sewing.” Catherine felt the excitement of being with women her own age instead of only family members and school children. “I do love quilting outdoors when it’s sunny, but they probably set up the looms in an outbuilding in case of rain.” She pulled two hampers from his trunk, and he lifted the heaviest roaster.

  “Thank you for letting me come, Catherine.” Thomas flashed a bright smile.

  “You’re welcome. Just set that pan on the porch. Good luck with your surveillance. I’ll see you later.” She practically ran with her hampers of food toward the Yoder house. Grown Amish women were not supposed to run.

  That spring fever bug apparently was highly contagious.

  “You’re here already?” Meghan stated the obvious as Catherine climbed the steps of the Yoder home. “How did you get here so fast?” She lifted off the top hamper to carry inside.

  “Thomas drove me because he wants to observe the goings-on,” Catherine whispered near Meghan’s ear.

  “Good idea. Lots of people have come to help, many I don’t recognize.” Meghan added the desserts Catherine brought to a long row across the counter, and then she found room in the fridge for the cold salads.

  Catherine brought in the roaster Thomas has set down, and then she pulled off her outer bonnet and looked around. “Where is everybody? Why are you in here alone?”

  “Because I dodged a bullet,” explained Meghan, using her favorite English expression—one her schwester hated. “All the other women were eager to quilt. They’re working hard in the barn on five different frames. Mamm knows sewing isn’t my best talent, so she suggested I volunteer for kitchen duty. I’m taking the food from folks and making sure the men and women have enough water and iced tea to drink. When it’s time to serve, mamm and Mrs. Yoder will come up to the house to help me.”

  “So you have it made.”

  “In the shade.” Meghan completed Catherine’s favorite expression for her. “Mamm carried your sewing basket out to the barn already.”

  Catherine nodded. “Gut. If you don’t need my help, I’m going to join the fun around the quilt frames.” Out she dashed before Meghan could decide whether she needed help or not.

  Join the fun? Not exactly. The only thing Meghan liked about sewing bees was catching up on current gossip. With church services every other week, socials allowed a chance for the women to talk. But today she would rather remain within the quiet confines of the Yoder kitchen because she was sure some of the gossip might be about her. What is the district saying about my teaching? Hopefully, the uproar over her Bible lessons had died down. But what if some parents didn’t like her phonics approach to reading?

  She so wanted the district to like her.

  She so hoped the school board would rehire her.

  And she so wished she would stop worrying so much.

  “I give this up to You, Lord. You know what’s best for me and for the kinner of this community.” She voiced the words aloud, assuming she was alone in the room. But she had been wrong.

  Jacob Schultz stood in the doorway, looking embarrassed. “What are you doing in here?” he asked, slipping his hands beneath his suspenders.

  “I’ve been assigned kitchen duty—iced tea, lemonade, and preparation of the meat and cheese trays for lunch.”

  He shifted his feet. “I would have thought one o
f the Yoder gals would be in charge of that.” He met her gaze, his green eyes turning very dark.

  She stared at him, amazed by how much of the doorway he filled. “Both of them prefer quilting.”

  He took a step closer, scanning the counters.

  “Jacob, this isn’t a good time for us to talk. Somebody could come in at any moment and overhear us.”

  Those emerald eyes of his flashed with annoyance. “Do you think I came in looking for you, Meghan Yost? To talk to you again about a matter that’s settled and forgotten?” He lifted his chin with defiance. “You have made your opinion perfectly clear once or twice before.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to think anymore. I’m confused about a lot of things.” She wrung her hands like a worried grossmammi.

  “I heard your prayer. Sounds to me like you know exactly what you want.” Then in a softer tone he added, “And I hope you get it.” His mouth pulled into the briefest of smiles and for a moment, she glimpsed her cherished friend. “But what I came for is a stack of cups. Someone put a big jug of iced tea and a jug of water out but nothing to drink it with. We can’t very well hold our mouths under the spigot.”

  Meghan searched the cupboards until she found several packages of plastic cups. “I was the forgetful person. Here you go.” She handed him the cups, feeling a spark of awareness from the touch of his fingers. He didn’t seem to notice, but the contact struck nerves inside she’d long forgotten about.

  “Danki. Now I have to get back to work. I’m not here to jawbone with women, whether they be former girlfriends or old friends or anything else.” He strode from the house, leaving a void where his large frame had just stood.

  When the screen door slammed, she hurried to the window to watch. He walked with long, purposeful strides, swinging the bags of cups like pendulums. He held his head high with his eyes focused straight ahead…and he did not look back.

  He’s happy without me. He’s gone on with his life and doesn’t even miss me.