Rosemary Opens Her Heart: Home at Cedar Creek, Book Two (20 page)

“If we move to Cedar Creek, Lois would welcome your help at
her pie shop,” Titus remarked. “She’ll reach a point someday where running Mother
Yutzy’s Oven is too much of a strain.”

“Jah, she’s told me that several times,” Rosemary replied in a faraway voice. “But
I might not move to Cedar Creek. Joe and I had blueprints drawn up for a house, and
if I gave the carpenters my go-ahead, I could be living in it by fall. I’d be right
next door to Mamm that way.”

Titus’s eyebrows shot up. “Now, why would you want to go building a house? That’s
just silliness, thinking you should go through with the plans you and Joe made—locking
yourself away in the past and living by yourself.”

Ah, but what if Matt Lambright moved to Queen City to be with me? What would that
do to
your
plans?

Rosemary looked away so her father-in-law wouldn’t see her furtive grin. She had no
intention of letting Matt share her house, of course, but wasn’t it fun to watch Titus
squirm? He apparently assumed that she had signed on with him until she found another
husband. And maybe, no matter what he said out loud, he was hoping she wouldn’t remarry.
That way, his laundry would get done and his meals would appear on the table—and she
could navigate Beth Ann through her teenage years and her rumspringa, so Titus wouldn’t
have to handle those matters as a single father.

And while Rosemary didn’t regret stepping in to help Titus, Mamm’s assessment might
be correct. She had made life a lot more convenient for Joe’s dat. If she slowed down
some, and even got back into circulation, what might life be like? Even as gray clouds
shrouded the sky, and though she still wore the black kapp and dress of a widow, Rosemary
felt happier than she’d been in a long while. Just for today, it would be good to
keep Titus guessing.

As they approached Cedar Creek, carriages were streaming in from both directions on
the county blacktop, toward the mercantile and the carriage shop, where fellows in
dark slickers were directing them where to park. From their place in the stalled line
of folks who
had come to pay their final respects to Paul Bontrager, Rosemary could see through
the windows of Treva’s Greenhouse, where long tables were again set up. Although this
occasion wouldn’t be nearly as cheerful as Zanna’s wedding, it provided a way for
far-flung members of Paul’s family to gather, while folks from around town would see
to the meal after the service and the livestock chores at the Bontrager place so Salome
and Paul wouldn’t have to worry about them.

Such thoughts brought to mind the day they had buried Joe. Rosemary recalled the November
wind biting through her coat…the
thud
of the soil being shoveled onto his plain pine coffin. She sat straighter, determined
not to cry. She yearned to rise above her own loss—to give help today rather than
needing to receive it. When she caught sight of a slender young woman beneath an umbrella
coming down Lambright Lane, she slid open her door.

“Abby!” she called out. “Where should I put these pies?”

It was good to see her new friend’s face light up, and as Abby hurried toward them,
Rosemary sensed her day had taken a turn for the better. “Since we’ve come to a stop
in the line,” she said to Titus, “I’ll save us from carrying these pies all the way
from wherever you have to park.”

“Gut to see you, Rosemary! Gut morning to you, too, Titus,” Abby said as she reached
the side of their buggy. She grasped the first pie carrier—a tall covered basket designed
to hold two stacked pies—as Rosemary handed it out to her. “Mighty nice of you to
bake for us today, Rosemary. We’ve got a large crowd already, even though it’s an
hour before the service starts.”

Rosemary handed the second carrier to Abby and then stepped down to the pavement.
“Happy to help. It’s the least I could do after your warm welcome last week. Aunt
Lois was thinking you might need every pie you could round up.”

Rosemary grabbed the last carrier, took one back from Abby, and followed her along
the side of the carriage-congested road. It occurred
to her that she had just walked away from Titus without even thinking about it, because
she had someone to visit with. She had a mission and a new friend, so she didn’t have
to hunt up Aunt Lois to keep her company anymore.

And wasn’t that a blessing? Another little freedom she had allowed herself.

Rosemary noticed the glowing green of the new leaves on the trees as the sun came
out from behind the clouds and how rows of red and yellow tulips brightened the front
of Sam and Barbara’s white house. Had the rose of Sharon bushes been this full of
blooms last week, or had she been too agitated to notice them? As she enjoyed these
signposts of spring, she saw two familiar figures: James was motioning for carriages
to proceed to the back of his carriage shop, while on the other side of the road Matt
directed drivers coming from the other direction to park in the Lambrights’ big front
yard. He caught sight of Rosemary and held her gaze.

She stopped. She waved and then followed Abby into Treva’s Greenhouse, where several
women were setting the tables. No sense in letting these folks—especially Titus—witness
any sort of connection between her and Matt. She hadn’t come to this funeral to flirt,
after all.

As Rosemary set her carriers on the table and began removing pies, Abby handed her
a clean knife. “Denki,” she murmured. “I hadn’t expected to be back in Cedar Creek
anytime soon, so it’s gut to see you.”

“And we’re glad to have you here, too. So where’s Katie today?” Abby deftly drew her
knife through one of the apple pies.

“I thought she’d have a better day with Mamm and my sister.” Her four quick cuts made
eight evenly sized pieces. “Beth Ann’s in school, of course—and I’ll have you know
she’s already made Titus’s work pants, those two dresses for Katie, and her own new
dresses, as well.”

“Sounds like she’s a wonderful-gut seamstress.” When she heard
the door opening behind them, Abby turned. “And I’m guessing Matt saw you and figured
he’d better see what kind of pie you brought.”

“There’s no figuring about it,” Matt replied in a low voice. He came up to the table
and lifted the pie Abby had just sliced. “Rosemary’s specialty is apple pie, made
with brown sugar and fresh lemon zest, and this one has my name all over it.”

Rosemary’s eyes widened as Matt snatched a fork from the nearest table. Was he really
going to eat a piece right out of the pan?

“Matt, let me get you a plate.” Abby hurried over to where the dessert dishes were
stacked.

“No need. It’s not like anyone else gets a taste—unless Rosemary wants some.” Matt
forked up the tip of one piece and held it in front of her with a wicked grin. His
brown eyes sparkled with mischief, yet he was serving her the first bite as though
he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“I—you don’t really intend to eat this whole pie, do you?” Rosemary blurted out.

Matt’s dimples teased her. “I’ll save some of it for the funeral lunch and some for
later today,” he replied, still holding the fork in front of her. “I’ve never sampled
one of your fine pies, Rosemary, and I want to enjoy every bite of it. If you’ll share
it with me, it’ll taste even better.”

Rosemary’s breath caught. When had a man ever gazed at her this way, as he held out
an offering of far more than filling and crust? Something indescribable passed between
them—something sweeter than pie. She opened her mouth. When Matt slipped the fork
between her lips, his gaze grew more intense. Then he turned the fork’s handle toward
Rosemary so she could feed him the next bite.

She could hardly swallow. This exchange came too close to the way a bride and groom
shared the first bites of their wedding cake. If she went through with what Matt was
silently suggesting, it seemed they would forge a profound connection even though
they’d
never been on a date. Even though they knew very little about each other.

But she saw no graceful way to refuse him. Rosemary closed her eyes over the bite
of pie, savoring the rich sweetness of the brown sugar and butter, the texture of
the sliced apples…the tang of lemon zest and the tenderness of the crust. It was like
no other bite of pie she could recall—and wasn’t that a silly idea? She’d been making
and eating her own pies since she was Beth Ann’s age.

Matt’s expression, however, told her he didn’t find this moment silly at all. His
lips parted in anticipation. His eyes closed and his long lashes brushed his cheeks.
Quickly, before she got any more caught up in how kissable he looked, she forked up
a big bite and slipped it into his mouth.

His groan gratified her. As she removed the fork, Matt caught hold of her hand. He
chewed slowly, holding her gaze, apparently delighted by the blend of flavors and
textures. “Rosemary, that’s the best apple pie I’ve ever tasted,” he murmured matter-of-factly.
“But then, I knew it would be. Denki for bringing it and for sharing it with me.”

She had no idea what to say, so she nodded. When Matt took the fork back, she once
again became aware that while Abby was still cutting pies, the other women bustled
about the tables as they laid out plates and silverware.

Rosemary reminded herself to breathe. It seemed that while she had felt suspended
in time and space, removed from reality, the world had not come to a standstill, nor
had anyone apparently noticed the little ceremony that had just taken place. Yet Rosemary
felt changed. Matt had initiated an unspoken agreement between them, and she had willingly
entered into it. And what did that mean?

Matt offered her another bite, but she shook her head. As he polished off that piece
of pie, Rosemary felt an inexplicable happiness. She had passed his first test.

Joe would never have done that. Not in public, anyway.

Rosemary looked away, removing herself from all thoughts of her deceased husband.
Joe had been a fine man, if more private about his feelings than Matt was. But he
didn’t have a place here today. She had come to explore a whole new realm of possibilities
without being bound to her past as a wife and a mother. Today she was Rosemary, a
young woman seeking her future, even if it was too soon to believe Matt would play
an important part in it.

Abby elbowed Matt as he lifted the crimped crust edge to eat it from his fingers.
“I’ll cover this and set it aside for you,” she said, pointing to a closed cabinet
along the wall. “You know, of course, that if your sisters or your mamm see you eating
it straight from the pan, you’ll catch a lot of teasing when they learn it’s Rosemary’s
pie.”

“Not the first time they’ve teased me,” he said with a shrug. “And if a fellow can’t
tolerate some talk for pie like this—or for a woman like Rosemary—well, he’s not much
of a man.”

Matt laid his fork in the pie pan and handed it to Abby. “I’d better get back to parking
buggies, but I’ll find you after the funeral, Rosemary—if you’ll let me sit with you
at dinner,” he added as he waggled his eyebrows at her.

Again, she saw no easy way to refuse him. They’d be seated among hundreds of other
people, after all. “All right. But if you need to talk with Titus about your flocks
or—”

“Titus will have to wait his turn.”

As Rosemary watched him walk out the door toward the road, which was still lined with
carriages, her pulse pounded. Matt seemed so confident about his feelings for her.
What if she was getting too caught up in the rush of his emotions and the attention
he was paying her that she wasn’t considering how
she
felt? She had a young child to consider, and a piece of ground, and Mamm and Malinda,
and—

“I’ve never seen Matt so happy.” Abby’s brown eyes, so much like her nephew’s, glimmered
as she squeezed Rosemary’s wrist. “I know
he’s taken you by surprise, Rosemary, but he’s a gut man. Not a fellow to string girls
along and then cast them aside. God has brought you together today, so don’t be afraid,”
she added softly. “All the right reasons and details will fall into place, if we give
ourselves over to His will.”

A
s Abe Nissley preached the first sermon of Paul Bontrager’s funeral, Matt shifted
so he could see between the men sitting in front of him. He peered across the crowded
barn, studying the women who faced them in row upon row of black dresses…past his
grandmother and his mamm and behind Aunt Abby, Marian Byler, and Eva Detweiler. Because
the eldest sat in front while girls Ruthie’s age were in the rear, he knew approximately
where to find Rosemary. But with so many out-of-town folks swelling their number to
nearly two hundred and every woman wearing her hair tucked under her kapp from a center
part, it took longer to study the faces.

“…and we are thankful to God for the many years of Preacher Paul’s service,” Abe was
saying. “In all he said and did, Paul served the Lord with gladness of heart and generosity
of spirit. The man God chooses to take his place will have big shoes to fill.”