A Marriage for Meghan Page 26

  “Why do you say that?” she asked, feeling a rush of pleasure.

  “I watched you both at the auction. The children seem to like you better and listen more when you talk to them.”

  “You noticed that? I’ve thought so at times, but assumed I was imagining things.”

  “You’re not imagining things. You just need to have faith in yourself. Only with self-confidence will you master whatever you still need to learn.”

  “Thank you, Agent Mast.” She felt her face blush. “I wish my family saw me through your eyes. They still see a mischief-making little girl who once kicked away the ladder playing hide-and-seek. I was stuck in the hayloft for hours before someone found me.”

  He laughed. “Family members are always last to forget our embarrassments, but you’re probably wrong about their opinion of you.” He walked toward her desk. “But right now we should leave before they start to worry. Take those papers home, because this storm might last for a couple days.”

  “Really?” she asked, feeling miffed. “Why didn’t you say so? I thought it was just a passing cloudburst.” She hurried to her desk and began stuffing papers and the lesson plan book into her tote bag. While Thomas banked the coals in the stove, she gave the plants a quick drink.

  “We’ll see how good my car does in the snow.” He followed her to the outer hallway, buttoning his coat to the neck along the way.

  She shrugged into her coat, tied her outer bonnet snugly beneath her chin, and pulled on her high rubber boots. When Thomas pulled open the door to blowing, drifting snow, they both stared at an approaching pair of twin bug-eyes. “A snowmobile,” she exclaimed as the sputtering machine stopped in front of the steps.

  The driver, wearing a fully insulated jumpsuit, was covered with a layer of white. “How ’bout this weather, eh?” he asked, removing his full-face helmet.

  “What are you doing here, Mr. Wright?”

  “I’ve come to get you, Meghan. Your sister sent me. Catherine didn’t want you walking home in this blizzard.” He wiped his face with a gloved hand. “My wife’s mad as a hornet—all her tulips and daffodils were blooming along the walkway.”

  Meghan grinned, remembering how fond Jennifer Wright was of her flower garden. “Maybe the cold won’t last and they can be saved. Daffodils need a hard freeze to lie down and not get back up.” She glanced at Thomas, who stood watching the conversation without proper hat or footwear. “I’m sorry you came out in this awful weather. This is Agent Thomas Mast of the FBI. He’s our tenant in the dawdi haus for a while. I can ride home with him, but thank you so much, Mr. Wright.”

  Thomas stepped forward. “How do you do, sir? Pleasure to meet one of the neighbors of the Yost family.” The two men shook hands. Then Thomas turned to her. “I think you should probably ride home on the snowmobile, Meghan. It’s not that far.”

  She stepped closer to him in the blinding snow. “Are you crazy? I’ll get soaking wet and cold. I’d rather ride inside your car where I’ll stay warm and dry.” She glanced at her neighbor. “No offense, Mr. Wright.” She blinked as snow collected on her eyelashes.

  “No offense taken, dear. Your family didn’t know that your tenant would be stopping by. I’ll just—”

  “Could you give us just one minute, Mr. Wright?” interrupted Thomas. “I need to speak to Meghan, but it won’t take long.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her back into the building, closing the door against near gale force winds.

  “What’s the matter with you? You’re going to my house anyway. Why should I ride on an open snowmobile instead of in a closed car?”

  “Because your father would be happier if you came home with Mr. Wright instead of me.” Thomas leaned against the door, his face wet from melting snow.

  “Why would my daed care if you gave me a ride?”

  He peered up at the ceiling before answering. “Because he’s afraid you’re becoming too interested in me and my way of life.”

  “Interested in you? That’s ridiculous.”

  “I know. That’s what I told him, but he didn’t believe me. And you know how fathers can be. With so much on his mind, let’s not give him anything else to worry about. Okay, Meghan?”

  “Fine, Agent Mast,” she agreed. “I’ll ride home in a whiteout…in a skirt…with a half-length coat, because my daed thinks I’m interested in an Englischer…who’s practically thirty. I don’t know which of those characteristics is worse.” She winked before reaching for the door handle. “Lock up behind you.” Meghan opened the door and headed toward the snowmobile. Mr. Wright had already started the contraption and pointed it toward the road.

  “I’ll be right behind you two,” called Thomas. “I’m not sure I can find my way home otherwise.” His words carried through the cold night air.

  Mr. Wright waited until he had started his car and fallen in line behind them. Then they began the slow crawl down an invisible roadway.

  A blizzard, Meghan thought, when I’ve started to plan the end-of-year picnic. Doesn’t it just figure?

  Catherine paced the living room from one end to the other, pausing every couple minutes to gaze out the window at a wall of falling snow. Not that she could see anything. The blizzard obscured everything beyond their family’s front porch. She hoped she hadn’t erred in sending Mr. Wright to the schoolhouse. Meghan hated being treated like a child. And she had more than proven herself these past months as a capable woman in every way…except maybe in matters involving the heart.

  When Meghan discovered Jacob was courting someone else, Catherine had witnessed her sister’s pain and had been impressed with her maturity. She’d shown no ill will toward her friend Rachel. Meghan and Catherine had even ridden home that night in the Goodall buggy. Meghan had politely chatted with Rachel’s sisters despite her anxiety and discomfort.

  Should I have pushed Meghan to mend fences with Jacob a long time ago? Should I have spoken to Jacob myself about the true nature of my sister’s affections? Or would my interference simply made thing worse?

  Until meeting Isaiah, Catherine hadn’t had much success in the romance department either.

  “Daughter, you’re wearing out the rug,” Gideon said from the doorway. “I’ll tell James to hitch up the sleigh so you can stop fretting. This weather has turned too foul for your schwester to walk home.”

  Catherine stopped pacing. “No need. I went to the neighbors and asked Mr. Wright to check on Meghan and bring her home.”

  “You sent him out in his van?” Her father look appalled.

  “He bought a new snowmobile after Christmas this year. Jennifer said he loves driving the thing. In his new insulated snowsuit, weather is no deterrent.”

  “You shouldn’t have bothered him when we own a perfectly good team of Percherons that love the snow.”

  “Oh, daed, I see headlights in the driveway.” Catherine pulled back the muslin curtains so he could see too. “They’re back. Thank goodness.”

  Gideon leaned so close to the pane his breath left a ring of vapor on the glass. “Looks like there are two pairs of headlights. I wonder who would come out on a night like this?” They both hurried to the door to the porch.

  Meghan took no time at all to scramble off the snowmobile, thank Mr. Wright, and run for the house, shaking herself like a dog along the way. She entered the hallway, covered from head to toe with wet snow. Pulling off her coat and soggy bonnet, she dropped them into a heap on the rug. “It’s not fit for man or beast out there,” she declared, her cheeks bright pink.

  “Who was in the other vehicle pulling into the yard?” asked Gideon, while Catherine hung up her wet clothes.

  “Thomas. Good thing he was driving past the school just as I was leaving with Mr. Wright. He wouldn’t have found the way here if we hadn’t been leading. He was totally befuddled on how to handle bad weather.” Meghan clucked her tongue with disapproval.

  Gideon draped a warm shawl around her shoulders. “All’s well that ends well. You did a good deed by bringing him back to
the dawdi haus. Now come sit by the stove and warm up. I’ll fix you a cup of hot tea.”

  Catherine watched her sister with fascination. She knew that little speech had been for their father’s benefit. As soon as he walked to the sink to fill the kettle, Meghan met her gaze, smiled, and winked impishly for good measure.

  Sisters…Catherine would truly miss this one when she moved back to Abby’s and married Isaiah. A person had to get up very early in the morning to get a leg up on Meghan Yost.

  Eighteen

  Meghan changed her clothes, towel-dried her hair, and sat by the woodstove until she started to melt. Catherine fixed meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and buttered yellow beans for dinner. Because Meghan had endured the nasty ride home to spare daed grief, Catherine insisted on doing all the work by herself.

  But sitting around while others worked felt unfamiliar to Meghan. After two cups of tea she grew restive. Never does a person yearn to be outdoors so much as when weather conditions render it impossible. Nevertheless, she slipped on her sister’s dry coat and headed out to the barn. Although watching people milk cows had never intrigued her before, today she would make an exception.

  “Guder nachmittag, James,” she called, entering the barn. “Where’s John? Why are you alone?”

  “He’s rounding up the horses and steers,” James answered. “With this strange weather, we want all animals in the barn tonight.” His voice drifted up from the underbelly of a cow.

  Meghan pulled up another stool, but she remained on the opposite side of the stall wall. She sat quietly while her brother milked, pondering the things Thomas had said. He had noticed the students paying better attention to her and thought she was the favored teacher. He believed she would have no trouble handling the classroom on her own if given the job. Too bad Thomas hadn’t been so optimistic regarding her future with Jacob Shultz. Seldom are things irrevocable. Maybe it wasn’t too late for her to undo the damage she had done.

  Suddenly, she heard the scrape of a stool. James rose to his feet. At six feet two inches tall, he loomed above the stanchions. “What’s the matter with you, little goose? Are you injured or sick? Never in your life have you sat so long without running off at the mouth.” James stared down at her with feigned, exaggerated concern. “Should I call the doctor?”

  Little goose? I’m nearly twenty years old, but I’m still a bird that pecks in the dirt all day?

  Hundred-year storms, end-of-term fatigue, and her recent romantic tribulations all rolled themselves into one large ball of emotion. Meghan opened her mouth to retaliate or at least defend herself, but she found she couldn’t speak. She croaked out a single gasp and then started to cry as though a floodgate had been released. Her face dissolved into a muddle of abject misery. After a second unintelligible gasp, she buried her face in her apron and sobbed.

  “Meggie! What is it?” In an instant James vaulted over the half wall and dropped to his knees in front of her. He put a large, calloused hand on her kapp. “What’s happened? Please tell me?” His words were soft as a child’s prayer.

  “Nothing has happened,” she sobbed. “Maybe I’m just tired of being a little goose my whole life.”

  “Ach, Meggie. You know I don’t mean anything by that. It’s a term of endearment, like when Cat calls you ‘dear heart.’” He patted her head like a spaniel that had won its master’s approval.

  She sat up, pushing away his arm. Some of her sorrow changed to anger. “First of all, it’s not a term of endearment. It’s highly insulting to call a woman that.” She dug a tissue from the little packet Catherine kept in her coat pocket.

  “Well, that’s not how I intended it. Mir leid, my dear schwester.” He took hold of her shoulders and squeezed.

  His apology sounded sincere, but Meghan wasn’t having any of it. Again she batted away his affection. “Don’t be a liar, James Yost. Breaking one of the commandments will only make things worse. I heard what you said to John in the kitchen that time.” She glared at him.

  He sat back on his haunches, looking confused. “What did you hear me say in the kitchen?”

  Meghan hesitated a couple moments before replying. Then she spat the words as though they were a spoonful of vinegar. “John was tasting a pot of chili I had prepared and comparing it to Abby’s or Cat’s. Of course, it didn’t measure up to theirs.” She could feel pique transitioning back to grief.

  James’ blue eyes turned soft and full of pity. “That John talks without thinking. But you were probably only ten or eleven when you made that pot of chili. Nobody is a great cook the first few times they try something new.”

  She would have none of his patronization. “This isn’t about John’s assessment of my cooking. I’m talking about your words. You said, ‘Let’s hope that Meghan marries young so some poor guy can take care of her.’” Clamping her jaw shut she stared at him, not caring that her tears resumed with a vengeance.

  James’ eyes widened with shock and disbelief. But soon the years fell away and his memory returned, bringing along shame and regret. “You weren’t supposed to hear that. I’m sorry, Meggie. That was a rotten thing to say.” Silence filled the cold barn while Meghan cried and James blushed to an unnatural red hue. Even the neglected heifer stopped mooing for a short while.

  “You’re a rotten person, James Yost.”

  “I am, without a shadow of a doubt.”

  “And also…” Her mind searched for Thomas Mast’s description of males. “An insensitive lout.”

  “You’ll get no argument from me,” he agreed while taking her hands. “But I do love you, little sister. And I also don’t think that way anymore. No, ma’am.” He shook his head from side to side.

  “You don’t?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow.

  “Of course not. After the way you’ve handled those eighth graders in your classroom? Everyone in the district is saying you got those boys to learn more during their final year than Joanna Kauffman could have.”

  “That’s just plain silly. Joanna was an excellent teacher. But why didn’t you ever tell me this?” She tried to pinch his arm through his heavy chore coat.

  “When was the last time you came to the barn to see me? I don’t get much chance to sit around and chitchat, especially not this season of the year.”

  She nodded. “I suppose I do keep my distance from muddy farm fields and smelly old barns.”

  “Who smells?” he asked indignantly.

  “You do and all your friends.” She hooked her thumb toward the cow that had resumed complaining.

  James lifted his arm to sniff. “You can insult me all you want for the rest of your life.” He scrambled to his feet, pulling her up too. “I deserve it, but don’t forget I think the world of you, Meghan.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “If I were allowed to pick a favorite schwester, it would be you.” He kissed her forehead lightly.

  She applied both fists to the center of his solar plexus. “Stop it, or I’ll start crying about that now.”

  James bent his head to meet her eye. “You don’t need anyone to take care of you. You will do just fine on your own.”

  She brushed straw off the hem of her skirt. “Enough. Hurry and finish your chores. I’m going inside; it’s freezing out here. Catherine should have dinner ready by now.” Righting her overturned stool, Meghan headed toward the door.

  “Oh, I saw your old friend Jacob Shultz in town yesterday. He asked about you.”

  That stopped her dead in her tracks. She whirled to face him. “What did he say, James?”

  Her brother had returned to his low stool and resumed milking.

  She hurried back to the low wall and leaned against the dusty slats, heedless of Catherine’s wool coat. “Tell me everything,” she demanded.

  “I would have taken notes if I’d thought it was important. Let me think…he asked how you were. I said gut. He asked how school was going. And I said real gut.” James glanced up at her and grinned, as though pleased with his recall ability.

  “That’
s it? Nothing else?”

  He turned his attention back to the heifer. “Well, he did ask if you were courting someone. I said I didn’t think so because you’re always up in your room grading papers.”

  “He asked that? But why James?”

  He looked up at her as though she’d lost her mind. “Jacob’s always been sweet on you. He asks about you every time he sees me, even if it’s two days in a row.”

  She leaned down close to the Holstein. “But he’s courting Rachel Goodall. At least he took her home from the last singing in his courting buggy.”

  “He did?” asked James, sounding surprised. “That’s the gal John has his eye on but has been too chicken to do anything about.” He made a boisterous clucking noise that the cow didn’t appreciate. Bessie stomped her hooves and almost knocked James off his stool. Meghan took a step back.

  “Easy, girl, easy,” he soothed, patting her side gently. “Wait until John hears this.” He ran a hand down the cow’s flank with true affection.

  “Do you think it was a one-time ride? Maybe Jacob’s not really interested in Rachel,” she said, no longer feeling the chill as she had been.

  James stood, picking up his bucket of milk. “Meghan, I didn’t know anything about Rachel and Jacob until you told me just now, so how could I possibly answer that? But if you’re curious you should ask him. And if you’d like him to court you, then just say so. Stop sashaying around the pond and jump into the water.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “I am. Tell him how you feel. Men can’t read minds.”

  “Oh, no.” She shivered from the thought, not the cold. “You don’t know how mean I’ve been to him.”

  James led the cow back to her pen and joined Meghan in the aisle. “Then tell him you’re sorry and that you were an insensitive lout and ask for another chance. And now that’s cleared up, let’s take this milk to the house. My fingers are frozen solid.” He snaked an arm around her shoulders.

  “Just like that?” She peered up at him.

  “Jah, it’ll be as easy as strolling through a spring meadow.” He pulled open the barn door to an icy blast hitting them squarely in the face. “Although maybe not this particular spring.”