Stoney Ridge 03 - The Lesson Read online

  Two kisses. In less than two weeks, M.K. had been kissed twice by two different men. Two entirely different men. She was surprised by how warm and soft Jimmy Fisher’s lips felt against her skin. She was thoroughly confused by that kiss. Even more so by his professions of love and commitment. Where did such an outpouring of emotion come from? She never would have thought Jimmy had such deep feelings for her. For anyone! She always thought he was mostly in love with himself.

  Nor would she have thought Jimmy Fisher could be such an accomplished kisser. But he was. She couldn’t deny that his kiss was rather . . . noteworthy. Afterward, it had taken her a moment to regain her balance. But it was curiosity that she felt, not desire.

  Now that she thought about it, Jimmy had been hanging around Windmill Farm more often than usual. And he hadn’t even talked about Emily Esh since . . . hmmm . . . she couldn’t even remember. How had she missed the signals? The obvious clues? She was completely losing her remarkable ability to sniff out news. She blamed teaching. Too consuming.

  It was just this one time. That’s what Jimmy Fisher told himself as he led Samson down to the horse track where Domino Joe waited for him. The amount of money he owed Domino Joe had grown into a staggering sum. Domino Joe had lost his friendly countenance toward Jimmy and was turning surly. Jimmy needed one big win to pay Domino Joe off, then he would quit pony racing—quit it cold turkey—and start courting M.K. He already mentioned his intentions to Amos last week, and Amos looked pleased. Jimmy would get serious about his future. It was time. He didn’t want to end up like his brother Paul, who dallied through life.

  When Jimmy had first seen Samson, he knew this was the horse that could get him out of debt, permanently, with Domino Joe. He drove Samson down to the track and put him in crossties to check him over again. Cleaned his hooves, brushed him down, talked to him about the racetrack. Jimmy thought it helped the horse to know what to expect. Or maybe it helped the rider.

  Thirty minutes later, he walked Samson directly past Domino Joe to go to the starting gate. He might have slowed a little as he passed him. Domino Joe looked Samson up and down, appreciating the animal’s fine form. He whistled. “Hey, Fisher—since it’s the day before Christmas and I’m in a charitable mood, I’m willing to offer you a bonus. All or none.”

  Jimmy narrowed his eyes. “If I win, my debt is wiped out? All of it?”

  “That’s right,” Domino Joe said. “And if I win, I get that horse. Deal?” He held out his hand.

  Jimmy looked at Samson. He had tremendous confidence in this exceptional horse. Today’s win would give him a fresh start, a clean slate. He stuck his hand out to shake Domino Joe’s. “Deal.”

  Jimmy lined up Samson at the starting gate. He could feel Samson’s tension build: his ears pinned flat against his head. His tail swished. The whites of his eyes were showing. The horse was practically prancing in the box, eager for the race of his life.

  Perfect. The moment was perfect.

  That afternoon, after the talk with Rome, Chris waited for Amos to return from fishing with his grandsons and cornered him in the barn as the little boys ran into the house with Uncle Hank.

  “Amos,” Chris said, boldly and firmly, though he didn’t feel bold or firm, “there’s a hardness between us. Have I done something to offend you?”

  Amos’s face tightened. “Something like, say, kissing my daughter in front of the schoolhouse? In broad daylight?”

  Chris rubbed his face with the palms of his hands. “I thought that was maybe the reason you fired me. Maybe I should have talked to you first, to let you know I care about Mary Kate. I’m sorry about that. But I’m going to own my grandfather’s house as soon as I turn twenty-one. Just four weeks from now. I’ve been fixing the house up so it’s livable. I have plans. I want to buy some mares soon and start breeding Samson. I want to settle down in Stoney Ridge.” He took a deep breath. “Amos, I’d like your blessing to court Mary Kate.”

  Amos’s face was still tight. “You’ll never have it. Never.”

  This wasn’t going well at all. “Do you mind telling me why?”

  Amos looked at him. “Your given name is Mitchell.”

  A feeling of dread rolled through Chris’s stomach, but there was no turning back now. “How did you know?” He had been so careful.

  “I knew your grandfather, Colonel Mitchell. So did my first wife, Maggie.”

  Chris tilted his head, confused. “But I thought your first wife’s name was Margaret. I saw her grave at the cemetery.” Chris felt the air whoosh out of his lungs. “Oh. Oh.” Maggie was a nickname for Margaret. He knew that. How had he not connected the dots? Chris had to sit down. The room started to spin and he thought he might get sick. He put his head in his hands. Maggie Lapp was the neighbor lady who came to help them. Maggie Lapp was the woman his mother had pushed down the porch stairs, the reason they fled Stoney Ridge. Maggie Lapp’s death was the reason the Colonel went to jail.

  Amos’s hands tensed into fists. “I realize you were only a child. But I just can’t let you court my daughter. I just . . . can’t.”

  “I’m not good enough.” Chris wasn’t asking. He knew that was true. It always, always came back to that. He was tainted. He glanced up at Amos. He didn’t blame him.

  Amos’s frown of worry eased from his forehead, but he didn’t acknowledge Chris’s comment. “M.K. doesn’t know how her mother died. Neither does Sadie or Julia. They just think their mother tripped and fell and hit her head on a rock, that it was just an innocent accident. There’s no need for them to know anything else. It’s all too . . . complicated.” He rubbed his face. “Jimmy Fisher spoke to me about courting Mary Kate last week, and I told him he has my blessing.” He walked past Chris, stopping briefly. “If you truly care about M.K., you’ll let her go.”

  M.K. said she was going to bed early, and that wasn’t a lie. She did go upstairs and she did go to bed. But she kept one eye on the window, watching the barn. She knew Rome and Chris were in the barn, feeding the animals. Tomorrow morning, early, the van was coming to pick them up to return to Stoney Ridge. They had gone today to visit Annie and little Joe-Jo, who looked so much like her brother Menno as a little boy that everyone left Annie’s home quiet and reflective, remembering Menno. Missing him. Annie was married now to a nice enough fellow, and they had two children of their own. Joe-Jo was happy, secure, growing up in a healthy family. What more could they want for him?

  They had done everything they had come to do. Mary Kate didn’t want the trip to be over, but in another way, she did. Chris was acting so distant that she couldn’t stand another minute of being near him, yet so far from him. She had to do something. Now. Tonight.

  Patience, schmatience. It was highly overrated.

  She heard her father and Fern go up to their room, listened to the hum of their voices through the wall, and then there was quiet. Jenny, sleeping in the twin bed in M.K.’s room, was snoring a light whiffling sound. The coast was clear.

  M.K. waited awhile, quietly dressed, tiptoed downstairs, grabbed her big sweater, tiptoed past Uncle Hank snoring so loudly in the rocking chair by the fire that it rattled the windows, and slipped out the back door without Julia or Sadie spotting her. She had always been particularly adept at sneaking past her sisters. It was one of her best skills.

  M.K. hurried across the yard to the barn and pulled the door open. Rome and Chris were just about to leave and looked startled by her appearance. “Rome, would you mind if I had a few minutes alone to talk with Chris? Dad and Fern went to bed, and I got past Julia and Sadie without them seeing me.”

  Rome grinned. “I’m glad to see you’ve still got your sneaky side, M.K. I surely am. You’ve been so quiet this visit that I’ve worried teaching has plumb worn you down.”

  “Oh, it definitely has,” M.K. said. “But there’s something I need to talk to Chris about. Without a crowd listening in.”

  “Like, a crowd that resembles Amos Lapp?” Rome walked past her and whispered, “I’ll c
over you for a while. But don’t stay out too late. If Julia catches wind of my letting her little sister out in the barn, unchaperoned, with a young man, I’ll be sleeping out here for the rest of the winter.” He looked back at Chris and added, “Talking only, young man.” He grinned, winked, slipped out the barn door, then shut it.

  Chris’s cheeks flamed. He looked at his feet. “Make it fast because I’m freezing.”

  M.K. blew out a puff of air. “Why are you acting like such a jerk?”

  Chris snapped his head up. “How so?”

  “Ever since you kissed me at the schoolhouse, you’ve treated me like I’ve got the bubonic plague.”

  Chris turned away, but M.K. pulled his arm, forcing him to turn back toward her. “Just tell me why you’ve turned so cold and distant. I deserve that much.”

  He looked right at her. “You do. You do deserve that. You deserve that and much more.” He put his hands on her arms. “Mary Kate, you deserve better than me.”

  “Why can’t I make that decision, Chris? Why does everyone think they know what—or who—is best for me?”

  He dropped his arms and paced around the center aisle. She was so innocent, so naïve to the cruelty people were capable of. “You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about me or my crazy family. You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

  “I might not know everything about you, but I do have a pretty good idea of the kind of man you are, Chris.”

  “No. You don’t. You have no idea. My life’s not worth . . . anything.”

  She straightened up as tall as she could and pointed at his chest with her finger. “Don’t ever say that again,” she told him, sounding like she was talking to one of her scholars. “Don’t ever, ever say that again. Don’t think it either. That’s a lie you should never believe.” She took a step closer and reached out for his hand. Her hand tightened around his fingers, and only then did he realize how much was at stake.

  “Why me, Mary Kate? What could you possibly see in someone like me?”

  “The thing about you, Chris Yoder, is . . . you make me want to be a better person.” She reached out and touched his cheek. He turned his face so that he could kiss the palm of her hand. His lips brushed her hand, then again, and he took a half step closer to bring their bodies into light contact.

  Then, abruptly, he stepped back, pressing her hands into a prayer, palm to palm. “I’m sorry, Mary Kate,” Chris whispered. “I can’t do this.”

  When Chris looked up, M.K.’s eyes brimmed with unshed tears. One finally fell and traced a path down her cheek. She backed up a step and crossed her arms over her chest. Then she turned and pulled the barn door open. She started to walk back to the house alone.

  And he stood there and watched her go.

  Was he going to let her walk out of his life?

  No. No he wouldn’t.

  He ran to the barn door and whispered as loud as he dared, “Mary Kate!”

  19

  The van pulled into Stoney Ridge as the sun was starting to set. Amos directed the driver to drop Jenny and Chris off first. Naturally, M.K. thought, still exasperated with her father. As the van went down the long driveway, M.K. noticed someone’s car parked out front, but no sign of anyone.

  Chris groaned. “That’s the realtor’s car, Rodney Gladstone. He keeps after me to buy the house.” He slid the van door open and let Jenny climb out. “Thank you for everything,” Chris told Fern, before turning to Amos. “I’ll get Samson in the morning, if that’s all right.” He gave M.K. a brief glance as he closed the van door.

  The van turned around in the driveway as Chris tried to open the front door with his key. M.K. saw him look at Jenny with a puzzled face. “Hold up a moment, Ervin,” she told the driver. “I think something’s wrong.” She unrolled the window.

  A man in a business suit came around the side of the house. “Locks were changed, just this morning. Did you forget something?”

  “What are you talking about?” Chris asked, coming down the porch steps. “Why would the locks be changed?”

  Chris seemed to know this man, so M.K. guessed he was the realtor. She jumped out of the van, and Amos and Fern followed.

  “That’s what the new owners wanted done, first thing,” the realtor said. “My brother-in-law is a locksmith.”

  “New owners?” Jenny asked.

  Rodney Gladstone looked at Chris, baffled. “Didn’t your mother tell you?” He scratched his head. “I hope I didn’t spoil her surprise.”

  “Tell me what?” Chris said, his voice filled with alarm.

  Jenny’s eyes went wide.

  “I contacted her a month or so ago to let her know I had a buyer for the house, to see if she might be interested in selling.”

  Chris fixed him with a hard stare. “How did you know where she lived?”

  Rodney glanced at Jenny.

  “He did it!” Jenny pointed at him, glaring. “He brought the mail to the house one morning and looked through it! He saw Mom’s address on an envelope.”

  Chris looked at her as if she were speaking in Chinese. “What envelope?”

  Jenny looked at him with wild eyes. “Mom and I . . . we’ve been writing back and forth, all fall. She figured out where we were living by the postmark.”

  Chris squeezed his eyes shut, opened them. He turned to Rodney Gladstone. “You had no right to meddle in our business. No right at all.”

  “But I did!” Rodney said. “I absolutely did. I was just doing my job. Grace Mitchell held the title to the house. She was the legal owner. It was all there, down in the title office. I had a buyer. It was the right thing to do. It was my duty to present an offer to the rightful owner. It’s my job.” His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “Grace Mitchell called me right away. The same day she got my letter. She said she wanted to sell. I sent her the offer and she sent it back, accepted without contingencies. It went into escrow and she told me to get the paperwork ready for the notary public. She would be in Stoney Ridge to sign the papers on December 23rd.”

  “She was here?” Chris said. “My mother was here? In Stoney Ridge?”

  Rodney nodded, paling. “December 23rd, just like she said she would be. Right before closing time. She said to keep the sale a secret from you and your sister—she wanted to surprise you and buy you a bigger spread. For your horse business.”

  “You sold our house?” Chris looked and sounded as if he couldn’t get his head around this news. “You sold our house out from under us?”

  Rodney started to sputter. “It was all legal! The title was in her name. She inherited the house from her father. It was all . . . legal. We had all the paperwork. I was just doing my job . . .”

  “You gave her the money for the house?”

  Rodney gulped. “A cashier’s check.” He licked his lips. “I figured she was doing you a favor. I mean, she’s your mother.”

  “You figured wrong . . .” Chris’s voice trailed off. He looked shaken, pale and dazed, as if he might pass out. “How could she have done this? How could she have masterminded this?”

  Jenny started to sob and M.K. pulled her into her arms.

  M.K. sucked in air, held it in her lungs. She wanted to shout, That’s terrible, terrible! . . . What kind of woman would lure her daughter and son to Ohio so that she could sneak back to Pennsylvania and sell their home out from under them? She’s a monster. Instead, she only murmured, “Everything will be all right.”

  Fern stepped up to Chris and put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s late. We’ll get this sorted out in the morning.”

  Rodney shook his head. “Not possible. The possession date was on closing. The new owners arrive with their moving truck at 8 a.m.” He looked cautiously at Chris. “Your mother said she wants to buy you a bigger place. A better place.”

  M.K. couldn’t tell if that was the wrong thing to say to Chris. Or the right thing. Whichever it was, it snapped him out of his shock. Chris’s hands were clenching and unclenching rhythmically, his powerfu
l chest shook. He gave Rodney a look as if he wanted to tear him apart. “My mother is halfway to somewhere else right now. She took that house money to feed her drug habit. She’ll blow through that money within the month.”

  Rodney Gladstone’s pale face went two shades paler. He looked horrified. “But she looked so normal, and seemed like a nice lady . . . and it was all . . . legal . . .” His voice drizzled off as he realized that he wasn’t helping the situation, so he quietly got in the car and drove off.

  M.K. watched Chris’s arms fall to his sides, and something seemed to collapse inside of him. She couldn’t bear him being hurt any more. She simply couldn’t bear it. She looked to her father to say something, do something. But Amos Lapp did nothing. He seemed at a complete loss for words. So she turned to Fern, who seemed just as nonplussed. M.K. was going to have to take charge. “They should come to Windmill Farm.”

  Fern blinked a few times, then snapped into action. “Of course. Of course they should.” She put an arm around Jenny, who was still crying. She led her into the van.

  “Chris,” M.K. said softly, “come to our house.”

  Chris didn’t budge. He had a strange look, as if he were somewhere else. “Chris, you need to come with us,” M.K. repeated. “You can’t stay here. Jenny needs you.”

  With that, Chris seemed to jolt back to the present circumstances. Then his face opened for an instant: grief and loss. He nodded and followed M.K. meekly into the van.

  They sat down to a silent dinner of cold turkey sandwiches from leftovers Julia had sent back with Fern. No one was very hungry, but Fern insisted everyone sit down and eat.

  “Today, despite everything, is a gift,” she said, right before they bowed their heads, “and we should return thanks.”

  And she was right. Remembering God put everything in its rightful place, even terrible things. Chris’s face, Amos noticed, had lost that awful white color from when he heard the news of his mother’s actions.