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  I handed him a slip of paper with some needed items for the café’s kitchen. “I wasn’t sure where to put this.”

  “Best to leave your list here where I’m sure to see it.” He turned to Bess. “Would you call this in right now?”

  “Certainly.” She scanned the list and nodded her approval.

  “Next week you can start calling in the food order yourself, Eva. It’ll be one less thing for Bess and me to do.”

  “Glad to.” I knew I should be pleased that he trusted me, but I still felt unsure. I must do everything I could to make myself a necessity. If this job didn’t work out, then what?

  After Mark excused himself and left, I glanced out the window and noticed the sky’s color was draining. “If you don’t mind, I’ll go and unpack,” I said to Stephen.

  “Of course. Can you find your way?”

  “Yes, as long as I can see the big house, I’m sure to find it.”

  He shot me a curious look I couldn’t decipher.

  “Is there something more I should know?” I said.

  “Not that I can think of. If you need anything, ask Beatrice. She knows how everything in the cabin works.”

  “Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I gave Bess a small farewell wave. She smiled in return. “Gut to meet you,” she said as I headed outside.

  Because it was only mid-April, the sun was setting on the early side. I’d lost track of time; I should have looked at the clock in the shop. I hadn’t seen a battery-operated clock in the cabin and had forgotten to bring mine.

  Up ahead, the main house glowed with radiance as the pumpkin-orange sun lowered itself into a cushion of clouds. Nothing beat the glorious sunsets in Lancaster County. I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. But, evidently, Jake never loved the area as I did. Or loved me as he’d professed. When we were together, he’d treated me as though I were a princess, always attentive to my needs and promising a lifetime of his devotion. But that didn’t last.

  I took a shortcut past the greenhouses and onto a path along the perimeter of the Yoders’ home. A yappy terrier bolted from the back of the house and raced toward me with its ears pricked and hackles raised. My first instinct was to ball my hands under my chin, but I steadied myself and said, “Wie geht’s?” as if I spoke to dogs every day of the week.

  As I neared the main house’s back porch, the screen door creaked open, and an older woman’s hoarse voice called out. “Who goes there?”

  “Just me. Eva Lapp.” I moved toward the portly woman I’d always supposed was in her late sixties. She was wearing metal-rimmed spectacles and a mid-calf black skirt. Her salt-and-pepper hair was parted in the center and pulled severely into a bun. No head covering. And gold hoop earrings, of all things. In the past I’d had hankerings to try on earrings, but had resisted.

  “I recognize you from Zook’s.” She stepped out onto the porch. “My name is Beatrice, in case you can’t remember.”

  “How nice to see you again.” I feigned a cheerful expression. One way or another, she was my neighbor, and I needed to find common ground with her. “I heard you’re house-sitting.”

  “Yes. I live on the third floor. Since Edna left, I’m the housekeeper, and I help take care of the Yoders’ little girl when Rose is busy making her birdhouses.”

  “It looks like a wonderful home.”

  “But too big for one person. Although Glenn Yoder lived here all by himself for years.” She came down the steps and stared back at the structure with vacant eyes. “Living alone is sad and lonely. I’m a widow, you must know.” She sniffed. “I’ve been at odds ever since my husband died.”

  “I was sorry to hear of your loss.”

  She worked her mouth. “So sorry you didn’t come to his funeral?”

  “I wanted to, but I had a terrible head cold. Coughing and sneezing. I was bedridden. My mother said I shouldn’t spread the germs.”

  She humphed. “Even Jake Miller came back for the funeral.”

  “He did?” Obviously, Beatrice knew about my past with Jake, but I was too stunned that no one had told me he’d been at that funeral to care. Now more than ever I wished I’d been able to attend. But my nose had been red and drippy. Truth is, Jake could have visited me while he was in the area, but he never even made a call to the phone shanty. Maybe he’d brought a wife with him. I was dying to ask Beatrice, but I didn’t want to give her more fuel for animosity toward me.

  “His mother and I grew up next door to each other,” she said, “where she still lives with her husband, Amos, and raised their family. Ruth occasionally invites me to her quilting frolics.” She chortled. “You know how the Amish enjoy gossip.”

  I didn’t appreciate her condescending remark, but I sucked in my lips. Not that her statement was false. Sometimes the Amish grapevine spread rumors faster than the Internet. Or so I’d been told, never having used a computer or a smartphone.

  She pointed a gnarled finger up to a window on the third floor of the main house. “That’s my bedroom. I can see your little cabin perfectly from my room, so don’t expect to be entertaining men.”

  “I don’t plan to.” Other than riding home from several singings with fellows who held no interest, and then in Jake’s buggy and a couple of times in his ill-fated car, I’d never been courted. “I’m not dating anyone.”

  She peered down her hooked nose. “Just today I spotted Stephen alone with you for the longest time.”

  “We were speaking strictly about business, and the door was open.” I had nothing to be ashamed of and yet felt warmth in my cheeks. I remembered reading The Scarlet Letter, a book borrowed from the library. Did I wear a sign on my chest?

  The terrier sniffed my ankles. “That’s Minnie. She won’t hurt you, but she’s a good little watchdog.”

  I dropped my hand to the dog’s level and forced myself to scratch the wiry fur between her ears. “Gut. If she barks at night, I’ll know to lock my door.”

  Beatrice dipped her hand into a pocket and brought out a key. “Did Stephen give you a key?”

  “Yes. Thanks, I’m all set.”

  She shrugged. “If you ever get locked out, you can come to me.” I realized her comment was an act of kindness, but her face remained stony, her mouth severe. Was this a woman I wanted working in the café? I couldn’t imagine asking her to do anything I couldn’t do for myself. And I doubted she could run a cash register.

  “I’d best go unpack.” I pivoted toward the cabin. “Then I should call my parents to tell them I’m okay. Is there a phone shanty nearby?”

  “No, but there’s a phone in the café and in the kitchen here. I suppose you could use the owner’s right now.”

  The thought of going into the main house with her made me nervous. “I can wait until tomorrow. I don’t want to trouble you.”

  “It’s no trouble, and I have nothing else to do. Usually I’m so busy when the owners are home, but they won’t be back for a couple of weeks.”

  “There is one thing. I neglected to bring a book.”

  She fingered the small gold cross at her neck. “The Yoders have plenty of books, but perhaps not what you’re used to reading.”

  “I like reading the classics and some contemporary books without violence or immorality.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Come around tomorrow when I’m not just about to prepare my supper, all right?”

  “That’s very kind of you. If you think the owner won’t mind.”

  “No, Glenn has a veritable library. And his wife, Rose, is generous too.”

  I felt a drop of rain on my cheek.

  “Looks as though clouds have moved in.” She angled her hefty torso toward the back porch. Was she afraid of melting like the witch in the Wizard of Oz? Not that I wanted to get drenched either.

  I heard a rumble of thunder in the distance. “Good night, then,” I said, but she’d already spun away. She ascended the porch steps and plunged through the back door, a black cat at her heels.


  Beatrice called Minnie’s name, but then she slammed the door shut when the dog didn’t respond.

  FIVE

  Seconds later I found myself standing in a deluge of rain. I dashed to the cabin and was glad to find it still unlocked. Cold and clammy air encompassed me. I lit the lamp next to the recliner and patted my face with a hand towel. I set about hanging up my dresses in the first closet I’d ever had. I used the pegs on the wall for my aprons.

  I glanced in the mirror above the bureau. Ach, my cap was drenched and flattened. I wondered how long I’d looked disheveled. In the dim light, my face appeared creased like that of a woman twice my age. Crow’s-feet at the corners of my eyes, crevices on my forehead. Vanity was a sin, I told myself, but my ghastly image made my throat shrink with sadness. If Jake ever came home for good and wasn’t married, he might turn away with distaste. Yet Beatrice had landed herself a husband. No doubt at a young age, when her skin was blemish-free and her temperament charming for his sake.

  I pulled out my hairpins and tossed my dripping kapp on the showerhead in the bathroom. With a towel I blotted my soggy hair—a pitiful, tousled mess. Next, I removed the straight pins from my black apron’s waist, set them on the bureau on a small tray, and then hung up the apron and dress. I slipped on my nightgown, nestled into my fuzzy bathrobe, and found my slippers, glad I’d thought to bring them along.

  I extracted my toothbrush from the suitcase. I hadn’t put away most of my belongings, but I shut the suitcase and set it against the wall. Fatigue enshrouded me, but I dug through the cardboard boxes. I found a battery-powered clock I didn’t recognize. Perhaps Marta had dropped one of hers in there for me—an unexpected act of kindness.

  Raindrops pattering on the roof turned into a torrent of splatting. I hoped the roof was waterproof. A flash of blue-white light filled the room, followed by a blast of thunder. I was used to storms, but I recoiled, feeling exposed and frightened. I could do nothing about it except start a fire in the hearth, see what Mamm had prepared for me to eat, and enjoy my supper—alone.

  Split wood, kindling, and crumpled newspaper sat on the hearth, and a box of matches perched on the mantel. Someone had been thoughtful. In no time, my fire sprang to life, hungry flames licking the kindling. The fire’s crackling sound brought me a feeling of safety and peace until I heard a scratching at the front door. What in the world?

  I cracked open the door to find the owners’ scruffy terrier, her coat drenched, looking up at me with hopeful eyes.

  “Shoo. Go home. What in the world do you want? Certainly not to come in and dirty the floor.” But her wagging tail and whining tugged at my sense of pity.

  I closed the door, hurried to the kitchen counter, and returned with a few paper towels. When I opened the door, I hoped the pooch had retreated to the main house, but she was still there.

  “How could Beatrice leave you outside on such a miserable night?”

  Blobs of rain bounced off the earth. Lightning shattered the sky. A deafening strike hit a tree close by, and the dog bolted into my cabin.

  “Hey, hund, wait a minute.” I blotted the animal’s fur and paws. I dropped a cloth towel on the floor. “You sit on this,” I told her, and I was surprised when she obeyed. What had Beatrice called her? Minnie? I supposed that was an appropriate name.

  “What would your owner say if she knew you were left out in the rain?” The pup gazed up at me as if she understood how off-kilter I felt.

  Minutes later, I munched on a meat loaf sandwich on wheat bread as only Mamm could prepare. I plopped down on the small couch. Minnie sat at my feet sniffing the air, her ears pricked. I knew I shouldn’t be suckered in, but I broke off a corner and tossed it to her. She snagged the treat out of the air before it hit the floor.

  As I glanced out the window, another flash of lightning slashed the sky, followed by bellowing thunder. The dog dropped to her stomach. Shivering, she nestled at my feet.

  “I’m not letting you on this couch with me, so don’t get any ideas.”

  The wind gained velocity, blasting against the cabin, making the windowpanes rattle and the timbers creak. I heard something on the roof and wondered if the shakes were flying off. Well, there was nothing I could do about it now unless I dared racing to the main house. No, I’d get soaked, and I suspected Beatrice would see it as an act of cowardice.

  I recalled my bookshelf at home. “Why didn’t I bring something to read?”

  Minnie cocked her head. I was asking a dog for advice? That was a first. I looked out the front window to see the porch light flicker off. The nursery lights and the streetlamps on the main road were snuffed like candles. I could see a dim light on the third floor of the main house. Beatrice must have had a battery-powered light fixture or a lantern.

  I scanned the room and saw a Bible sitting on a shelf in the nightstand. It wasn’t the kind of reading I had in mind, but it might calm my racing thoughts. I’d never get to sleep with this raging storm even if my stomach was full. And what should I do with the dog? I guessed she would have to stay inside.

  I shuffled into the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. Again, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and winced at my pathetic reflection. Illuminated by the battery-operated lamp, my hair looked drab and my features elongated. I’d shower in the morning and spend extra time combing and parting my hair. Thankfully, I’d brought several clean and pressed kapps.

  I draped my Lone Star quilt from home over the bed. A perfect fit. Then I pulled back the sheet and blanket and snuggled inside my chilly cocoon. The mattress felt soft and squishy. I imagined the previous resident, Edna, had weighed quite a bit more than I did. She’d broken the springs in and left a few lumps. I propped the pillow against the headboard, all the while listening to the rain beating against the windows. A lightning strike shattered the air. Poor Beatrice. Should I go check on her? No. If she was on the third floor, she probably wouldn’t hear my knocking.

  With the lantern on my nightstand, I opened the worn Bible somewhere in the middle and found it written in English. Our family Bible was in German. Not knowing where to start, I opened at the bookmark and read Psalm 4:8 aloud. “I will both lay me down in peace, and sleep: for thou, LORD, only makest me dwell in safety.”

  I’d never been a good sleeper, and, apparently, Edna suffered from insomnia too. But I felt my lids droop. I’d endured a long day.

  Knuckles rapping on the door made me jerk. Had I thought to lock it? Minnie leaped to her feet and growled. She sniffed under the doorjamb and then barked.

  “Who’s there?” My voice wobbled.

  “Stephen Troyer. Are you okay? Is Minnie in there with you?”

  Hating to leave the comfort of the bed, I jammed my feet into my slippers, plopped a scarf atop my head, and dove into my black coat. I cracked the door open.

  “Sorry to bother you.” Stephen stepped inside and shut the door behind him as the wind whooshed into the small space. Minnie jumped on his leg. “There you are, you scamp. Beatrice was worried sick you’d run away.”

  I was tempted to tell him the woman left the poor animal out in the pouring rain, but I held in my words.

  “I bet you want your supper, don’t you, girl?” Stephen bent down to fluff Minnie’s furry head. “Although it looks like you’ve made yourself at home.”

  I clutched the front of my coat together and buttoned it. “The poor little dog was frightened and wet. Next time I’ll leave her outside.”

  “She’s a consummate beggar.”

  “I gave her a little something.”

  He scanned the cabin’s interior. “I knew you’d be all set here, but did you see that the main house and nursery have lost electrical power?”

  “Yah, I’m used to living without electricity. But what about the café tomorrow?”

  “The café alone has a generator that switches on the moment electricity goes off, so no worries in the morning. And a gas stove. I should have told you.”

  “What about the tropical
plants in the greenhouses?”

  “We’ll light propane heaters if needed. Who knows? The electricity might come right back on tonight. But I doubt it.” He glanced out the window and sucked on his lower lip. “Beatrice called me from the house to warn me.”

  I peered outside, but I couldn’t detect much. Just the silhouette of a woman standing in a third-floor window watching this cabin. Watching me entertain a man. Which she would no doubt report to whoever would listen.

  “Is Beatrice all right?” I asked. “Should we check on her?” Not that I wanted to. Here I was with a man and the door shut, just what I told her I’d never do.

  “I don’t think that’s necessary. She’s a tough old gal. Although in the past she was used to having a husband take care of her.” He grasped the doorknob. “Come on, Minnie. Let’s get you home.”

  The dog flattened herself against the couch in front of the hearth.

  “I don’t mind keeping her for the night if that’s okay.” I didn’t look forward to spending the night in solitude, but I’d never imagined myself wanting the company of a dog.

  “Sure. She’s nice and dry, and the walk back to the house is muddy.”

  When he opened the door, Minnie scrambled to her feet, darted outside, leaped off the porch, and raced to the main house.

  Stephen chuckled. “She must still be hungry.” He took hold of the doorknob again as he stepped out into the darkness. “You should lock this door at night” were his parting words.

  SIX

  I awoke to the sound of a bird trilling. The sky was bright, the room illuminated by the sun’s brilliance. I glanced at my clock and was surprised to see it was already seven. After a fitful night of troublesome thoughts assaulting my brain, how had I managed to sleep in? I’d forgotten to set the clock’s alarm.

  My intention had been to be at the café at seven to start the soup, but in truth I had a long span of time until the café opened at nine. I showered and spent extra time combing out my hair and parting it in the center just right. I found a clean kapp and was thankful it didn’t require pressing. But my navy-blue dress needed ironing, even if a cotton and polyester blend fabric. No time to worry about a few wrinkles that would surely come out as the morning progressed. I pinned on my black apron. In my haste, I pricked a finger. I chalked up my clumsiness to fatigue and a jittery case of the nerves. Yes, I was anxious. My hands shook, and my thoughts raced.