The Survivor Read online

  Looking back at her, he murmured, “So. You do want to see William? Should I tell him to stop by?”

  Slipping two fingers under the brim of her bonnet and kapp, Mattie fingered the peach fuzz on her scalp. “Does he know about my hair?”

  “Jah. And about your cancer and your surgeries, too.”

  “And he still wants to meet me?”

  All at once, the anger fell from his expression and the wonderful, beautiful kindness that had always been there for her appeared. “He does, even though I tried to warn him that you were a bossy, greedy woman.”

  She felt her cheeks heat. “Oh, Graham! You didn’t tell him those things, did you?”

  “Nee. I told him you were a great lady, one of my best friends.” He paused, looking almost uncomfortable with what he told her. “And, um, I told him that he’d be lucky to get to know ya. So you want me to tell him to stop by tomorrow?”

  Nervously she nodded.

  “All right, then. It’s settled.” Looking around them, he whistled low. “My word, Mattie. We walked too far! And the wind has picked up something awful. Why, you’re going to get chilled if we’re not careful.” Two steps closer brought his arm around her shoulders.

  She shivered, so happy to feel his comfort, his warmth once again.

  “Ach, Mattie. You are chilled.” Tsking under his breath, he brought her even closer to his side, opening his coat slightly to give her more protection. “We’ll go back to your house together, jah? I’ll take you home and get you some tea. All right?”

  Overcome with gratitude, she merely nodded as they slowly walked together, Graham’s heat and scent making her feel secure.

  Making her feel like she was special to him. No, more than that. Like Mattie Lapp was the most important person in his world.

  But that had to be the truth, wasn’t it? Their disagreement had proved something to her. Graham Weaver was the most important person in her life.

  Chapter Six

  “Onkle John, how come you don’t come over here as much as you used to?” Katie asked.

  John looked up from the puzzle they were doing together and scanned his niece’s expression, trying to figure out if she was truly sad about his absence of late . . . or if she was wanting something. One could never be sure with Katie.

  But when she merely stared at him with her big blue eyes, he kept his voice soft. “Katie, dear. You know I still visit you all the time.”

  “Not as much. Not like you used to. You used to come almost every evening.”

  “I’m busy, Katie. I’ve got the store to run, you know.”

  “And other things, too?”

  Ah. There was the reasoning. Katie was wanting some answers. “Yes. I’ve been making new friends.”

  “I heard Lucy tell Calvin that you sometimes see Mrs. Zehr.”

  John shook his head. “Sounds like your hearing is as good as ever. For your information, I have been seeing Mary and Abel. Just a little bit. When they come into the shop.”

  “But not Ms. Donovan?”

  “No, not Jayne.” To his surprise, he still felt a momentary pang of guilt whenever he thought of the pretty librarian with the violet eyes. If he’d been willing to stay English, he thought he might have been able to be happy with her.

  Or perhaps not. Though she appealed to him, he’d never felt like she’d needed him. Not really. And after living thirty-some-odd years for the most part by himself, he was eager to be needed.

  “I see Ms. Donovan when I go to the library.”

  “I know you do. You see Ella there, too.”

  Katie nodded importantly as she picked up a red puzzle piece and put it in the red pile. “You know, one day you could bring Mary and Abel over here.”

  John privately thought that might be a little awkward. So far, he hadn’t even gone to her house for dinner. Besides that, he had a feeling that Mary was more than hesitant about the community commenting on their relationship. “One day I will bring Mary here. But for right now, I just want to spend time with you.”

  “That’s why I like you coming over, Uncle John.”

  “Why is that?”

  “You always have time for me. And you bring us potato chips.”

  Looking at the bag of Lays, he had to smile. His niece was a junk-food junkie. “Katie, I don’t think you’ve met a bag of chips you didn’t like.”

  She smiled his way, then scooted closer. “You won’t ever leave Jacob’s Crossing again, will ya?”

  “I hope not.” Of course, he already had a trip planned to go back to Indianapolis. He wanted to make sure everything was going well on the sale of his place. And he wanted to take one last look at the city he’d come to love before turning his back on that life for good.

  “I hope not, too.” Nibbling her bottom lip, she rearranged two pieces together until they snapped into place. “I got a match.”

  “You did indeed, Katie. Those fit together perfectly. Just like you and me. We’re a good match, child.”

  Oh, but their conversation was as wobbly as a loose wheel on a buggy! For the last fifteen minutes, Mattie and William had skittered from one topic to the next. Trying—without success—to find a common thread to grab ahold of.

  Mattie was sure this was going to be the longest buggy ride in the history of Jacob’s Crossing. Why, her time with William was starting to feel as long as a chemotherapy treatment, and she’d thought nothing could ever be longer than that.

  “The snow sure makes everything pretty,” she said, feeling slightly bored and more than a little frustrated. “I like winter.”

  “I enjoy snow, too,” William said from her left side. “It’s so fresh and cold.”

  Mentally, Mattie rolled her eyes. Snow was pretty and fresh? . . . and cold? This would be the extent of their conversation, stilted as it was?

  Almost against her will, she compared William’s words to what Graham would have said. Graham would have laughed off her inane comment, then would have volunteered to toss her out in the snow.

  As the minutes dragged by like hours, she looked longingly at the fluffy layers that blanketed most everything around them. Only tiny bird tracks disturbed the pristine surroundings.

  Yes, Graham, indeed, would have joked around with her comment. Or he would have suggested they make a snowman. But of course, William wasn’t like that. During their brief time together, he had seemed buttoned up and stiff. Almost wary. Mattie was starting to wonder if he would ever unbend enough to joke around with her—or even with anyone, for that matter.

  As she noticed him shift uncomfortably, Mattie realized that he most likely was feeling the strained tension between them as well. She needed to give him a chance. After all, it wasn’t his fault they were strangers.

  What she needed to do was try harder.

  “Perhaps one day we can go out walking in it,” she ventured. Unable to stop thinking of Graham and his carefree attitude, she added, “Maybe even make a snowman?”

  He blinked. “You can go out in the weather? It won’t make you sick?”

  “The cancer didn’t give me colds,” she blurted before she thought to temper her words. “It only attacked my body.”

  A red stain colored his cheeks. “Sorry. I just thought that maybe you weren’t strong enough yet. I mean, that you could catch cold . . .” He slumped. “I promise, I didn’t mean any disrespect.”

  His honest apology made her blush, too. She truly needed to become less prickly.

  What a joke it was, to think that she was treating her disease without hardly a spare thought. Nee, it was becoming brutally obvious that the cancer was always with her. “No, William, it is I who am sorry. I know you are trying to make sure I stay healthy.” His quiet, undivided attention made her bare her soul even more. “See, I’ve been living with my condition so long that I forget everyone else is still wary about it
.”

  “I can see how one might do that.”

  She smiled at him, grateful that he was trying so hard to listen and be supportive. “You were right. It used to be that anything could make me sick. But I’m getting healthier and more fit every day. Even strong enough for a little walk in the snow.” She held up a foot. “I even have my boots on.”

  He looked at her black, thick-soled foot, then glanced upward. As he did, William’s deep brown eyes softened enough to make her think that maybe she’d judged him too hastily.

  She looked down and smiled.

  “If you have your boots on, then I suppose we’d best make use of them, jah?” William asked as he carefully reined in his horse.

  Now she just felt silly. Had she always been so childish? Had she always pushed others in order to get her way?

  When he glanced at her again, she smiled weakly. Nothing needed to be said.

  After pulling the buggy to the side of the road, William easily hopped out and tied his horse to a nearby fence post. Then, with the same economy of motion, he walked to her side.

  “Are you ready to walk now, Mattie?”

  “Of course.” Slipping her hand in his, she clambered down. When her boots landed on the ground, fresh snow crunched underneath them. A few bits splattered around her skirts.

  “Hmm. I have to say that I’ve never been much for wandering around in the snow and ice, but if it’s what you want . . .”

  “I think it will be fun.”

  “Then let’s walk for a bit, shall we?”

  When they stepped forward, her right boot slipped a bit, nearly bringing her backside to the ground.

  With little fanfare, William reached out and gripped her elbow, then slowly slipped his hand down her forearm until their fingers linked together like two well-hewn boards.

  His touch, though chaste, felt impossibly familiar. Too familiar. His palm tightened around hers as they walked over a slippery section, then started toward a thicket of pine trees. Mattie couldn’t help but notice that his hand felt different than Graham’s. A little wider. A little softer, too.

  When his fingers folded around hers for a brief second and when his thumb rubbed her knuckle, she grew embarrassed and pulled away. For the briefest of moments, his grip tightened—refusing to let her hand drop. Then, as if he had just realized what he was doing, he let her hand go.

  Feeling embarrassed and slightly wary, Mattie clasped her hands in front of her. What had just happened between them?

  Her mouth went dry as she dared to wonder about her reactions to him.

  As the tension grew between them, she cleared her throat. Then spied the perfect distraction. “Look, William, rabbit tracks.”

  “Ah.” He pointed to another set of tracks. “These look like deer tracks.” After a second, he grinned at their own tracks, now looking so big and clumsy next to the animal’s perfect prints. “I fear our tracks don’t look near as neat.”

  Mattie smiled at him, pleased he was trying.

  Around them, the sun was peeking through the branches of the trees, casting faint shadows on the snow. A few cardinals and blue jays were fluttering, their bright colors looking strikingly beautiful against the pristine snow.

  It was a beautiful day. A happy day.

  At least, it should have been.

  She glanced William’s way. For a brief moment, he looked bored. But then when he noticed her looking, he lifted his head and smiled. “Happy?”

  She wasn’t. It was now obvious that no matter how beautiful the surroundings—or how hard they tried to converse—they were not a good match. “Oh, yes.”

  “Then I’m happy, too,” he said. Obviously lying. “Though this wind is cold.”

  At least he had hair on the top of his head! Graham would’ve had his arm around her shoulders, just to warm her up. Or would have pulled her over to inspect a squirrel’s nest or an interesting-looking juniper bush. Or he would have told her the names of all the birds.

  Or he would have been just content to walk with her, saying nothing.

  But William did none of those things.

  Once more, she was beginning to get the feeling that he never would.

  Chapter Seven

  John felt as clumsy as a teenager as he clasped the dish of green beans that Mary had just handed him. “Danke,” he murmured, spooning up a few and tossing them on his plate.

  But of course, three of the beans wobbled off the spoon before they reached their destination and flew onto the white tablecloth. Immediately, an angry blotch stained the cloth.

  Right after, he felt his cheeks heat. Across from him, Abel snickered.

  Now what to do—pick them up with his fingers? Pretend they weren’t decorating the space to his right?

  “Just pick them up with your fingers,” Jenna whispered from his left. “Mary didn’t see. Besides, your spill doesn’t mean anything. Spills happen to everyone.”

  He needed no more reassurance than that. Still reluctant to look at Mary, he set the bowl down, tossed the run-away beans onto his plate, then wiped his now oiled fingers on his napkin.

  Making his cloth napkin stained well and good, too.

  Inwardly, he sighed. His clumsiness with the beans was only the latest in a string of misfortunes that had happened since he’d arrived.

  He’d tracked mud onto her floor, knocked over a glass of water, shattering the glass on the countertop, and had inadvertently told Mary that he wasn’t all that fond of peanuts. Just before he’d discovered she’d made a peanut butter pie for dessert.

  Right away, she’d started looking for something else to serve for dessert—and he had begun to wish that he’d learned to keep his mouth shut.

  As everyone around him ate silently, John’s nerves began to get the best of him. Perhaps this dinner was a worse than bad idea. Maybe they were rushing things a bit . . . eating all together like they were. At his sister-in-law’s house, he often stayed in the background, not wanting to make any waves.

  Here, Mary was treating him like her honored guest . . . and Abel was treating him as an unwanted one. Obviously he had a lot to learn about family-style dining.

  He glanced Mary’s way.

  However, Mary didn’t do anything but smile sweetly.

  After a moment, she cleared her throat. “Abel and I started something the other day that was mighty fun. We shared one good thing and one not-so-gut thing about our day. Shall we do that now?”

  With a sideways glance in Jenna’s direction, Abel groaned. “Mamm, let’s not.”

  “Oh, come now, Abel. When it was just the two of us, I thought it was great fun.”

  Ignoring her son’s put-upon expression, she clasped her hands in front of her. “All right, then, I’ll go first. My good thing is this, dinner together. Jenna, I’m so glad you’ve come to live with us, and John, it’s a pleasure to share something besides donuts and kaffi with you!”

  John couldn’t resist smiling right back. He was eager to do anything that brought the attention away from his string of mistakes. “And the not-so-good thing?” Oh, he hoped she wouldn’t say him staining her good tablecloth!

  “That’s easy.” She lifted her hand, to reveal a row of three neatly applied bandages to the side of her palm. Right below her pinky finger. “I cut myself on the buggy wheel this morning.”

  John leaned forward. “Mary, I didn’t even notice your hand. What happened?”

  “Oh, nothing too earth-shattering. Something must have ripped at one of the wheels. When I rested my hand on one, hitching up Daisy, I scraped myself.”

  “So that’s why I saw those cloths soaking in the stationary tub!” Jenna exclaimed. “I wondered what had happened. Mary, you must have bled something awful.”

  “It was nothing. Truly.”

  John grew concerned. “Mary, perhaps you should go to the d
octor or urgent care? You might need stitches or a shot.”

  Her cheeks pinkened, just as if she wasn’t used to anyone fussing over her at all. “Oh, goodness. I’m fine, John. It was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.”

  “Will you at least let me look at it later?”

  “Of course. I mean, if you want to . . .”

  Feeling that connection between them, he nodded, though he sensed Abel glaring at him. Well, that was fine. He didn’t care. Someone needed to look after Mary, and it might as well be him. She needed someone to fuss over her!

  After a brief pause, Mary looked at Jenna and Abel. “Now, who would like to go next?”

  “I will,” Jenna said. “My good thing is that I think I got a job today. Ms. Donovan at the library offered me a part-time job. She said she’s been shorthanded.”

  A brief moment of silence met Jenna’s pronouncement. John knew they were all thinking that the reason the library was shorthanded was because of Dorothy Zook’s passing. She used to work at the library, but then was recently killed in a buggy accident. As the uncomfortable moment lengthened, all of Jenna’s confidence dissipated in front of them. Paling, she sputtered, “I didn’t mean that how it sounded.” Biting her lip, she continued. “I mean, of course I’m sorry that Dorothy died. Even though she, ah, put Ella in danger . . .” Her voice drifted off.

  For a whole other reason, John felt himself growing uncomfortable. Until he’d made his choice, he’d also been seeing Jayne. While he wasn’t sure just how much Mary knew about that, he would have rather not talked about Jayne at all.

  John cleared his throat.

  Again, Abel snickered, but it sounded forced, like he was struggling to stay aloof and snarky.

  Tears pricked Jenna’s eyes. “John, I didn’t mean to offend. I know Ella is your sister-in-law . . .”

  “You didn’t offend me at all. It’s all right, Jenna,” John said. Hoping that God would give him the words to help her and to make the tense subject lighter. “I know what you meant. I’m glad you got a job offer. I’m sure you’ll be good at it.”