Keeping Secrets (26 page)

He was leading Chester, a girl in jeans with blond hair hanging to her waist following him. He listened to what she was saying, a smile on his face, as he tied Chester in a pen with two other horses.

Sadie hung back, afraid. She twisted her burgundy-colored apron in her hand. She smoothed her hair, lifted her chin, and stepped out.

“Mark!” Her voice cracked, and she hastily cleared her throat. She called him again.

“Mark!”

He stopped and looked in her direction. As if in a dream, his eyes found hers. What was the expression in them? Yes. It was anger. He hated her, wanted nothing to do with her.

Then … oh … then … his brown eyes lightened, and he came toward her. His mouth widened into a soft grin of welcome. The light in his eyes was not hatred; it wasn’t even annoyance or disappointment. But, oh, wonder of wonders, he was overjoyed to see her!

He didn’t stop until he had wrapped her firmly in his arms, bent over her, murmuring words of endearment into her ear. Her ribs hurt with the pressure of his hugs, and she suddenly became aware of her surroundings.

“Mark. Mark! Someone will see.”

“Let them.”

“Mark, please, let me go.”

He did, then stepped back, looked deeply into her eyes and said, “I’m sorry.”

That was all, but it was enough. It was more than enough. It was a treasure chest filled to overflowing with precious gold coins worth much more than anything Sadie had ever owned. She was rich, wealthy beyond measure. God had provided the answer she so desperately sought.

He was only human. His apology was his way of taking responsibility for his own actions. He did not blame his mother or his father, his past, anyone, or anything. He had done wrong, he knew it, and he repented. The coins in the treasure chest of this love glittered and sparkled.

The blond-haired girl stood awkwardly at the gate, annoyance written all over her face. She cleared her throat, a nasty twang to her voice as she said, “Excuse me?”

Mark apologized, politely showed her out, then returned to Sadie’s side.

“We need to talk.”

“You want a greasy, sloppy, burned cheeseburger?” she asked.

He laughed. Oh, that beautiful sound! Then he caught her hand in his and took her to a stained table at the top of the stairs, in the smoky, plastic-paneled dining room of the food stand.

They took huge bites from the cheeseburgers, that were slathered with heavy mayonnaise, thick slices of tomato, dill pickle, onion, and lettuce, and served on cheap white rolls. They shared an order of greasy steak fries loaded with salt, pepper, and ketchup, wiping the excess off their faces with lots of thin paper napkins from the smudged holder against the wall.

He talked a lot. More than she had ever heard him. It seemed as if that one, solitary “I’m sorry” had opened a floodgate of goodness. But he confessed he still had a difficult time with trust.

“I just go a bit crazy when I think you are attracted to someone else, even if you say you love me. I’m sure my mother told my father that she loved him many times, and he believed her. That’s what terrifies me. I’m afraid that I will give my heart to you, and that you’ll hurt me, just like I’ve always been hurt. I trust no one, least of all, you. It’s awful having to tell you these things, but I hope you understand why I overreacted to situations that normal guys can just shrug off.”

Sadie nodded.

Later he would tell her that he had never loved her more than at that moment when she nodded, quietly understanding and accepting his insecurities, his
bupplich
attitude. Her love was the strongest chain he had ever had to hang onto, especially when the quicksand of his past threatened to submerge him yet again.

People of every kind came up to their table to talk to them. They smiled politely, endured the needless chatter, but were eager for everyone to let them alone.

It was Owen Weaver himself who told them that Fred Ketty had spread the rumor that they had broken up. She was in town and saw them eating ice cream together. On her way home again, Sadie was sitting by herself at the same table. She figured they had an argument and stopped the friendship. So Owen had to look twice to see if it was Jake’s Sadie sitting there with Mark.

Mark was at a loss for words, but Sadie rescued him smoothly, saying Mark had to move his horse from the hitching rack, which was the truth.

Owen shifted the toothpick in his mouth, scratched his rotund stomach, and laughed good-naturedly.

“Ah, that Fred Ketty. She’s a sharp one. You have to give her that. Between yard sales and the Laundromat in town, she sees a’plenty, now, don’t she?”

He clapped a thick hand on Mark’s shoulder, rattling the ice in his glass of Coke. Mark grabbed his glass, held on to it firmly, not daring to take another sip with the affable Owen ready to pound his shoulder at any moment.

“So why are you selling that horse of yours, Mark? He’s a beauty.”

Mark grimaced, then slid over in the booth, turning his upper body to see Owen better. Also, Sadie guessed, to get out from under the descending, good-natured hand clapping on his shoulder at regular intervals.

“I have too many. It’s turning into a habit. I come to the horse sale and think I have to buy one.”

Owen’s toothpick fell out when he grinned widely, nodding his head until his hat slid sideways. “I can see it. I can see it! Young man like you, a paycheck and no wife to spend it. Ah, enjoy your horses. Soon enough you won’t be able to afford it with a good wife and a buggy-load of youngsters to take care of that paycheck.”

He gave Sadie a meaningful wink. She would gladly have slid under the table and stayed there.

Mark and Sadie continued to talk into the evening. It was only when a seriously worried Anna came through the door, her face pale and her eyes burning with unshed tears, that Sadie remembered the rest of her family. She clapped a hand to her mouth and gasped.

“Anna! Over here!”

Anna was so relieved, she sagged into the booth beside Sadie and laid her head on her shoulder.

“Where in the world did you go? Dat is frantic!”

“She’s with me,” Mark said, smiling. “She’s with her boyfriend.”

Anna sat straight up, clearly flustered.

“You guys are just different. One day you’re happy, and the next day you’re … whatever.”

Mark laughed, and Sadie put her arm warmly around Anna’s shoulders, hugging her close.

S
ADIE WROTE TO DANIEL
King on a plain white sheet of notebook paper, telling him in the kindest way she could about her relationship with Mark. She felt quite sure Lancaster County was full of girls he could date. He was close to his family, so it was likely best for him to stay and move on with his life.

That winter proved to be the turning point in her relationship with Mark. They went to hymn singings and supper crowds where the youth would assemble and visit. They spent Saturday evenings with other couples, most often Kevin and Leah. And when they went on dates alone, they stayed up and talked for hours.

Sadie slowly adjusted to Mark’s personality. There were times when he withdrew into a dark place inside himself, and he didn’t speak unless she spoke first. Even then, his answers were curt, accusing, as if she had done something to make him feel so down. No amount of questioning or pleading made any difference. These times were when he felt lowest about himself, and if she tried to talk him out of it, he only pulled her down with him. So she learned to leave him alone at such moments.

He had never promised her the relationship would be easy, but was it always going to be this way?

Anna lost weight all winter long, a strange flush in her cheeks every evening. She was taller than Rebekah now and nearly as tall as Sadie. None of her dresses fit anymore, so the girls helped Mam to sew new ones for her.

Sadie spent hours discussing Anna’s problem with Mam and her sisters, but everyone had a different opinion, so nothing was ever resolved.

Mam maintained her stance that as long as Anna kept a reasonable weight, ate good, healthy food, what was the harm? Everyone ate the occasional doughnut and wished they hadn’t.

Leah tended to side with Mam. Rebekah thought she should be taken to the same doctor that had made such a wonderful difference in Mam’s life.

Too much money. No insurance.

What about the money they received for finding the stolen horses?

Mam’s hospital bill.

What about the rest of it?

It was Sadie’s.

And on and on, with no real conclusion.

Sadie still felt the same. Anna needed a horse. So did Reuben. If Dat didn’t do anything by springtime, then she would take matters into her own hands.

Sadie noticed the change in Anna just as spring arrived. The reason she remembered was because it was the same day that she first heard the Chinook.

Dat called it that. It was the first warm air of spring, blowing from the south so softly it was barely noticeable. The light sighing sound was nature’s way of breaking down the long icicles that hung from the eaves. It would still take weeks and weeks for the Chinook to wear down the snowdrifts.

Sadie did not sleep well the night she heard the Chinook. Mark had gone home early from their date, but that wasn’t what kept her awake. It was the steady dripping of the melting icicles that kept her up all night.

She would have loved to burrow into her pillows, pull the comforter up over her head, and sleep until dinnertime. She was tired, cold, and in no mood to sit on a hard bench for three hours or be stuffed in the surrey with all her sisters and Reuben.

She burned her fingers on the broiler pan when she retrieved the toast and snarled at Anna because of it. Mam scolded her in clipped tones, telling her to stop taking out her foul mood on Anna.

Her dippy egg was undercooked, and Sadie swallowed her nausea as she pushed the plate away. Mam never finished a dippy egg properly. More nausea pushed at her throat as she watched Mam dip a corner of her toast into a glob of swimming egg white. Maybe she should make her own eggs from now on.

Dat slurped his coffee in the most annoying way, and Reuben dumped almost the whole plastic container of strawberry jam on his toast. He laid the sticky knife on the tablecloth and promptly set his elbow on top of it. He devoured almost half the toast in one bite. That was the last straw.

“This family has the most indecent table manners,” Sadie said tartly, wincing at the sour taste of orange juice in her mouth.

Dat and Mam looked at her with surprise, Anna ducked her head in embarrassment, but Reuben shoved the remainder of his toast in his mouth and blurted, “Sour old maid!”

“I am not an old maid,” she fired back.

“Why doesn’t Mark marry you then?” Reuben asked, victory shining from his eyes.

Sadie swallowed her anger, gathered all her common sense and Christian virtue—it was Sunday morning, after all—and told Reuben that he’d better get ready for church.

Her mood lifted when she entered the
kessle-haus
and her friends greeted her with warm hugs and girl talk. This was a part of her world that she so often forgot to appreciate, she knew.

The girls walked to their seats, and a few minutes later, the boys came in and sat on the opposite side of the shop, facing the girls.

The singing began, the voices ebbing and flowing as they always did. Out of the corner of her eye, Sadie noticed Emery Hershberger’s Leon leaning a bit to the left, looking at something, then correcting his posture again.

At 15, he was turning into quite an attractive young man, with a tall, easy gait, wide shoulders, and auburn hair. He used to be a heavy-set red-haired boy with a spattering of freckles and a loud, obnoxious voice. Now, his hair had turned darker and his complexion settled into a smooth, healthy color. He certainly was not the boy he used to be. Why hadn’t she noticed that before?

Leon leaned over again, and this time Sadie leaned forward ever so slightly to see the object of his attention. Her eyes traveled Leon’s line of vision, and she nearly gasped aloud.

Anna!

Her head was bowed demurely, the way it should have been, but there was a decided blush coloring her wan cheeks. Her thick lashes swept them as she kept her eyes downcast, her brown hair swept up in a thick, shining mass below her white covering. Her dress was the color of the ferns that grew beneath the pines on the ridge, a woodland color that complemented Anna’s complexion.

Oh, my Anna! My dear little insecure sister. You are growing up, blossoming into a maiden of the forest, right beneath our eyes. A beautiful young girl, unnoticed for so long, with all the attention going to your older sisters.

Sadie could barely look at Leon. She was an intruder, an outsider who had no business looking for any sign between them, and yet, she couldn’t help but see what was so painfully evident.

Ah, Anna. You’re not yet 16. So innocent and unspoiled, so pitifully sure you’re overweight and ugly.

What was best?

Sadie felt old and a bit careworn at that moment. It seemed as if she and Mark were an outdated grocery item to be taken off the shelf and replaced with a fresh one.