The Patient One Read online

  Smiling at her, he chuckled. “Jah. I know that, Marie.”

  “How did you ever manage to find it? Did you simply get lucky?”

  “I did, in the sense that the ladies took pity on me, yes. They made it for me in a day.” He sighed. “And I wasn’t going to tell you that.”

  She had so many questions bouncing around in her head, Marie didn’t know where to start. Why had John gone all the way to the bakery in the first place? Why had he ordered her a cake? And why had he brought it here, by himself?

  Could it be that maybe . . . maybe he was finally going to see her as something more than just one member of the Eight?

  But, of course, she couldn’t pepper him with questions. That would be rude.

  Or maybe it was rather that she was too tentative around him. John B. could be pretty sensitive. The last thing she wanted to do was embarrass or offend him and send him on his way.

  Walking him into her kitchen, she set it on the counter. Then, unable to help herself, she lifted the lid and peered inside. And there, in all its splendor, was one of her favorite things in the world, the chocolate cake from the tiny bakery. If she had been alone, she would’ve stuck a finger in the icing and taken a swipe.

  However, she was her mother’s daughter. Looking John directly in the eye, she smiled and said, “This looks delicious. Thank you so much.”

  He gave a little bow. “You’re welcome.”

  “Would you like to have a piece with me?”

  Looking around the room, he murmured, “I would, but not yet.”

  “Oh? What do you want to do first?” Though the words didn’t mean anything, she realized they might come across as suggestive. Or maybe that’s just because where John B. was concerned, almost everything about him made her think of romance.

  Hazel eyes flashed back to her. They almost seemed to read her mind. “Maybe you could give me a tour of your new home?”

  Like a difficult jigsaw puzzle, everything finally clicked into place. John B. had come over to give her a housewarming present.

  It didn’t really matter that he’d come alone. Or had brought her a cake that wasn’t easy to get.

  “All right.” Pinning another smile on her face, she said, “As you can see, this is my kitchen.”

  “Looks like you’re getting ready to do some cooking.”

  “More like I’m trying to get ready to do some cleaning. I have too many cookbooks.” Pointing to the hutch, she said, “I had high hopes of putting them all there, but obviously that isn’t going to happen.”

  “I’m afraid you’re right about that.”

  Comments like that were why she practically melted around him. He was kind. He never criticized, never tried to change her. Instead, he simply accepted her as herself. And though most people in her life would have never imagined that she had such a need, it seemed she did.

  “It’s a mess in here. Come on, I’ll show you the rest of it.” She walked into the living room, which was actually right next to the kitchen.

  “I like your fireplace. Does it work?” he asked.

  “I hope so. The inspector said it did.” She walked to the small bathroom just off the living room. “Here’s the powder room. I think it’s kind of in a bad place, don’t you?”

  “Why is that?”

  “Well, if there’s a lot of people in the room and someone has to go, everyone will know.”

  “You’re worried that everyone will know that a person has to go to the bathroom?” His lips twitched.

  Put that way, she supposed that her worry was kind of silly. After all, everyone had to go to the bathroom sooner or later. “Anyway, at least it’s an extra bathroom so people won’t have to use mine. I’m glad about that.”

  Pointing down the hall, he said, “And down that way?”

  She walked down the narrow hallway, which was painted a worn-looking vanilla. “This here is the extra bedroom.” Of course there wasn’t a bed in it. “I can’t decide what to do with it. Maybe I’ll get a twin bed and a chair? Maybe a desk, though I don’t want to work at home.” She paused, waiting for him to offer a suggestion.

  But of course he didn’t. Instead, with his hands firmly clasped behind his back, he looked at everything carefully. “Is that a closet?”

  She opened it. “Yes. I’m using it as a linen closet.” The explanation was unnecessary, since it was loaded with sheets and towels, all stacked haphazardly. Boy, she really needed to become a better housekeeper.

  “Ah.”

  Becoming embarrassed by her mess, she turned on her heel. “Come on. Let’s finish this up.” She opened up the next door. “Here’s my bathroom. It’s a good size, I think.”

  “I think so too.”

  Unable to help herself, Marie walked into the room and wrapped a hand around the bathtub’s rim. “It has a really pretty old-fashioned bathtub, which I love.” While John studied it, she chuckled. While some might have called it a monstrosity, she thought it was perfect. It really did look like it had been pulled out of one of the interior design magazines her mother loved so much. The tub was cast iron and had claw-feet. She felt like a princess every time she filled it with water.

  “I like its feet,” John said.

  “It’s a great bathtub. I’ve taken a long bath in it every night since I’ve moved in.”

  He glanced at her before looking away again. “I’m glad it works.”

  Suddenly realizing they were talking about her bathing, she rushed to her bedroom and threw open the door. And bit back a moan. Because, of course, her bed was unmade, and there were pillows and shoes everywhere. And a lacy, light purple nightgown had been thrown in the middle of the floor.

  “I usually make my bed. Sorry,” she said before ushering him out, hoping, really hoping that he hadn’t spotted it.

  But judging from the blush on his cheeks, he hadn’t missed a single thing.

  Marie closed the door tightly behind her, like she was afraid that the nightgown was going to exit the room on its own.

  “So, that’s the house. What do you think?” she asked as she led him back to the kitchen.

  “I think you seem happy here.”

  “I am. I mean, I will be once I clean up everything and get settled in.” She realized then that instead of looking pleased for her he seemed distracted. “Is anything wrong?”

  “Nee. Well, not beyond that I came over here to persuade you to move.”

  His blunt statement felt like a slap. “Is there a certain reason you don’t want me around?”

  “It’s not that I don’t want you around, I don’t want you here.”

  “Because?”

  “Because this ain’t a safe place for a girl like you.”

  She was a team leader at the bank. She had several people, both men and women, who reported to her. She wore suits and took conference calls and was busy enough to have to schedule most meetings a week or two out at a time. No one at Champion Banks made the mistake of acting like she was a naive, clueless girl more than once or twice.

  So while with pretty much everyone else in her life she would have jumped all over the use of that term to describe herself, she focused on his solemn expression.

  He was really worried. “Why don’t you think I’ll be safe? Everyone around here seems nice enough.”

  “Most of the people who live in this neighborhood aren’t like you.”

  Marie supposed there was a compliment in there somewhere. “So far, my neighbors have been just fine.”

  “You know what I mean. You are a pretty woman with a good job. People here are a little rougher. I’ve heard that there are even some men living in this neighborhood who’ve spent time in jail. They might be desperate and see you as someone they could take advantage of.”

  “I came here from Cleveland, remember? I’m used to living in a big city. I know how to take precautions.”

  A muscle in his jaw clenched. “Do you even have a security system?”

  She was just about to tell him th
at she didn’t, but there was something about his stance that made her say something else. “Maybe.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Unable to hold her joke back, her lips twitched. “It means that you are acting a whole lot like a Rottweiler, so maybe I do, absolutely, have my own security system. You.”

  FOUR

  While the chuckles subsided, Katie glanced over at Mr. and Mrs. Warner. When she noticed they were smiling, too, she continued.

  “I guess you all have a good idea of who was at the very end of our little line. It was our formerly fearless leader, Andy. Turns out when snakes are involved, he was our leader no more.”

  Just before John left work, Mr. Kerrigan had called him into his office. He’d just gotten off the phone with a client out in Idaho who’d had a special request. The man not only wanted a few more bells and whistles in his trailer but also a unique paint job. He wanted the entire outside to look like a sunrise. Lots of grays, oranges, yellows, and blues.

  “I’m hoping you can be the lead designer on this one, John. I don’t know of another person in the company who would have the patience to bring this client’s dreams to life,” Mr. Kerrigan had said. “What do you think?”

  John thought that the question was the opportunity he’d been hoping and praying for. From the time he’d started at the trailer company, John had been working late and arriving early. Doing as much as he could to impress his boss and let him know that he was a man who was worth investing in.

  Once he and Mr. Kerrigan had developed a good rapport, John had gotten even braver. Little by little, he had started offering more opinions regarding the designs on the trailers. He enjoyed both planning and applying the artwork and loved seeing how the finished product illustrated months of careful consideration and hard work. Just last month, his boss had asked him to work side by side with Job, their company’s lead builder.

  “I think I’d like to take the lead on this one. I have lots of ideas already,” he said. “Danke, Mr. Kerrigan.”

  His boss held out his hand. “No, thank you, John B. Your eye for design and steady hand have put the company’s reputation on the map. I’m glad you’re willing to do even more.”

  The hard-earned praise had felt good, and after taking his boss’s notes, he’d ridden his bike home and had played with the customer’s wants in his head while showering.

  Now he was at his desk, eager to put a pencil to paper and start sketching out his ideas. Before long, his rudimentary scratches began to take form, and the hour he’d intended to spend on the project slid into two. Wanting to get as much done as he possibly could, he pulled out his colored pencils and began shading in the drawing.

  “Hey, John?” his youngest sister called out from the doorway. “Mamm wants to know if you want supper. Do ya?”

  Startled, John turned to look at Molly, who was parked outside his bedroom in her wheelchair. Molly had been thrown from a horse when she was nine and it had injured one of the lower vertebrae in her spine. Ever since, her legs had been paralyzed, though she had some small amount of feeling in her thighs.

  That accident had been a dark moment for his family, but Molly’s determination and bright spirit had shined through. She’d never felt sorry for herself and hardly ever complained about her circumstances.

  Sometimes John felt like the rest of the family had taken her injury harder than she had. It was difficult knowing his pretty sixteen-year-old sister was always going to have a handicap that might limit her future choices.

  “I’m sorry, Molly. Have you been sitting there long?”

  “Only a minute or two. I was kind of worrying about disturbing you. It must be a big project.”

  “It is, but I didn’t hear you approach down the hall. Did your chair get a tune-up?”

  She rolled her eyes, proving that she might have lost the use of her legs but her sarcasm wasn’t hurt. “Nee. You were concentrating so hard on your sketchbook, you wouldn’t have noticed a herd of cattle if they’d charged down the hall.”

  “You might be right.” He stood up and stretched. “I’ve been working on a new design for a client.”

  “So, are ya?” Her voice was thick with impatience now.

  He ran a hand through his hair. “Am I what?”

  She lifted her chin. “John, are ya going to sit at the table with us or not? Mamm wants to know. And I need to know, too, ’cause it’s my turn to help with supper.”

  “What are we having?”

  “Pizza pie.”

  He didn’t even try to hide his dismay. “Again?”

  Molly looked almost stoic. “I’m afraid so.”

  “I’ll pass.” Their mother, who did a great many things right, rarely made a meal that didn’t go wrong. Her pizza pie, a jumbled-up casserole with hamburger, mozzarella, noodles, and assorted vegetables, was one of her worst.

  Molly grunted. “You made a gut choice. Mamm discovered old cauliflower in the refrigerator.” Before he could comment on that, she’d deftly turned her chair and rolled back down the hall.

  He’d intended to get back to work but now was feeling a little guilty. He decided to follow Molly. Even if he didn’t want pizza pie, he didn’t have to make Molly be the deliverer of bad news.

  When he heard the echo of everyone’s voices drifting his way, he was tempted to turn back around and close his door. He might not want to make his sister do his dirty work, but he wanted to deal with everyone else even less.

  Because there were a lot of them in the Byler family. Ten, in fact. His parents, his father’s parents, Molly, James, Anton, Amanda, Ezra, and him. All together in their big, sprawling, mixed-up house.

  And the house truly resembled a rabbit warren. Parts of it had been originally built by his great-grandfather in the 1930s. He’d added on a wing when his brother came to live with him after his wife’s passing, then another section was added after his grandparents had gotten married and had seven kinner of their own. More changes and additions had also taken place, including a long hallway connecting the dawdi haus. The homestead was now near seven thousand square feet of housing headaches.

  Though the house didn’t have to be passed down to the oldest son, that was how it happened in their family. Which was why James was already feeling the pressure of one day owning the monstrosity. More than once, James had hinted that he would gladly let John inherit the house.

  Every single time, John had lightly refused the offer. The fact was, he was pretty sure he’d rather live in a one-room log cabin than be responsible for the family home—and all of its inhabitants—for the rest of his days. Though a lot of Amish families he knew got along splendidly, his did not. Everyone seemed to have their own opinions, and not a one seemed to think it was a problem to share those opinions loudly and with pride.

  Yep, there was always too much commotion, too much talking, too much conflict.

  At least once a day he found himself being envious of Marie’s single-living situation.

  No, he supposed he should at least be honest with himself. Whenever he thought about being at her home, the last thing he found himself thinking about were her four walls. The only thing he ever thought about when it came to Marie Hartman was Marie. And she’d just about killed him tonight, what with her talking about taking hot baths, leaving purple nightgowns on her floor, and comparing him to a protective guard dog.

  He had it bad for her, and that was a fact. The problem was he didn’t know what to do about this infatuation. Did he finally move forward and actually do something about the feelings he’d had for her for, well, forever?

  Or did he do the right thing and face the fact that the only way he could have a future with her was if he left everything that he had in this house?

  Just as he was about to turn the final corner and enter the main living space, he practically ran into his youngest sibling, Ezra.

  “Oh gut. I didn’t have to run all the way down to your room,” Ezra said.

  “I already told Molly that I wasn�
�t joining everyone for supper.”

  “Mamm heard. This ain’t about that.” Ezra’s freckles seemed to light up as he grinned.

  Unlike him, his fourteen-year-old brother loved commotion. “What is it about?” he asked impatiently.

  His grin widened. “Mommi and Dawdi want to see you.”

  His grandparents wanted him at the table, too? A dozen reasons flew through his head, none of them good. “Why?”

  Ezra’s humor vanished with a shrug. “I don’t know. But I think you’d better come join us and be quick about it.”

  “Because?” he asked, though he was already following Ezra down the hall.

  “Because Daed’s in a mood today. I think he’s about to tell Dawdi to stop bossing everyone around.”

  He bit back a sigh. “Really?”

  “I wouldn’t lie about that, John.”

  “I know you wouldn’t,” he murmured as he mentally prepared himself to sit at the long table with a giant spoonful of pizza pie on his plate and deal with the lot of them.

  He loved them all, but he could have gone another year without it, mainly because the conversations were going to be exhausting and happened often. Though everything inside him was aching to tell Ezra that neither Dawdi’s requests, nor their father’s perpetual grumpy mood were his problems, he knew they were.

  He was prepared to do the right thing, even if it cost him his sanity.

  FIVE

  “When we finally got to the creek bed, we all scattered about. Most of us ended up sitting on the banks, glad for the break. Except Andy. He hung back, saying he was bored. ’Course, we all knew the real reason he stayed away. Snakes were known to sun themselves in the trees along the banks.”