Trading Secrets (6 page)

“How old are you?” I ask Katy, trying to determine the level of her interest in this young man.

“I'll be sixteen in November,” she says proudly.

“Oh.” I nod.

“I'll be done with school this year.” She makes a happy sigh. “The end of May.”

I remember that Amish kids end their schooling at eighth grade. That's it. Over and done with. No more education. At least no more formal education, though some of the young men will take on apprenticeships after they leave school. I can't even wrap my head around how it would feel to be finished with school when you're only fourteen. Zach's been out of school for several years now. I remember when he wrote to me saying he was unhappy that his schooling came to an end. He confessed that he secretly longs for more.

He also told me about how he “sneaks” books from town. Every time he gets the chance, he goes to the public library and picks up some books. He says they're on unrelated topics—whatever happens to catch his eye at the moment. Everything from auto repair, which is ironic, to world history, which I suppose is equally ironic since chances are he'll never travel more than thirty miles from here. He has to read the books by lantern light after his little brothers fall asleep at night. Naturally, his family is unaware of this habit. And I'm sure he wants them to remain oblivious.

As we get closer to the farm, I start getting nervous. Why did I let Katy talk me into this? What if her family—particularly her mother, who seems to truly dislike me—is unhappy to see that I've returned? What if Zach is angry? I don't think I can bear to do a rerun of the scene from last night.

“Daed took the little boys fishing,” Katy is telling me as Matthew turns the wagon into their driveway. “Sarah and Ruth went home with Mammi and Daedi after service.”

“Oh.” I try to act interested in these accounts, but mostly I am thinking of Zach. Where is he? What is he doing?

“Molly still hasn't foaled,” Katy says lightly as the buggy
comes to a stop between the barn and the house. “At least she hadn't before I left.”

I feel paralyzed, like I'm glued to the buggy seat, but Katy just climbs over me and jumps down, dragging my backpack out with her.

“Come on,” she calls out. “We're here.”

I turn to look at Matthew, wondering if I should plead with him to drive me back to town right this instant, but his gaze is straight forward and I can see impatience in his tightly pursed lips. “Thank you,” I mutter to him as I climb down from the buggy.

He barely tips his head as he gives the reins a firm shake, and just like that the buggy begins to rumble away.

“Come on, Micah. Let's go inside.” Katy dangles my backpack in front of me like it's bait.

Just as I'm reaching for my pack, I observe a male figure emerging from the barn with a dog at his heels. I suspect by the height and the long stride that it's Zach. When he sees me standing in the driveway, gaping at him like the village idiot, he does a quick about-face and disappears back into the shadows of the barn. Well, of course. Why did I imagine he would be glad to see me?

I turn to Katy, ready to demand the truth from her—why on earth did she entice me back here when she knows her brother is still ticked at me? But before I can say a word, I notice her mother coming out the back door. She's walking fast, swinging her arms, and judging by the grim expression on her face, she is just about as happy to see me as her son is. Oh, why did I trust Katy? Why did I agree to come back here?

K
aty Miller.” Zach's mother shakes her finger at Katy and proceeds to question her in a different language. I vaguely remember that this is called Pennsylvania Dutch, although we are not in Pennsylvania and the language sounds a bit like German. I actually recognize a few words from my one year of German class.

Katy wraps a protective arm around my shoulders. “I went to help Micah.”

“Why should you help her?” With her hands on her hips, Mrs. Miller reverts back to English, but she skillfully avoids my eyes.

“Because I heard you talking to Daed. You told him that it's not good for a lone girl to go to town, to stay in a hotel, and to—”

“Do not press your ear to closed doors, Katy.” She scowls darkly. “You should not listen to talk that isn't for you.”

“And should I not listen to the teaching at church?” Katy says in a challenging tone.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Were you listening, Mamm? Today Brother Ben spoke about the Good Samaritan who helped a stranger.” Katy grins triumphantly at me. “Micah is a stranger in our midst, Mamm. I am helping her.”

Mrs. Miller is temporarily stunned into silence.

“I'm sorry to intrude on you,” I say quickly. “Katy was very kind to offer me a place to stay for the night. But if it's a problem, I'm happy to return to town. I can stay in a hotel. I don't mind. I didn't realize there was no afternoon bus today. My father is unable to come and get me and—”

“No, no—it is all right. You can stay.” Mrs. Miller gives Katy one last grim look, then turns away, hurrying off toward the garden.

“It's making trouble having me here,” I say quietly to Katy.

She giggles. “That's all right. It's a good kind of trouble.” Before I can make an excuse to leave again, she snatches my backpack and hurries toward the house, and I follow. But on the back porch she notices that my backpack is dripping. “This is wet,” she informs me.

“I know.” I tell her about getting caught in the rain.

“We will hang it to dry.”

I follow her out to where a clothesline is strung, and together we hang my soggy clothes on the line. But when we get to my underwear, I shake my head. “No way,” I tell her.

“What is it?” she asks.

“My undies,” I tell her.

“So small.” She frowns at the several pairs of colorful underwear in my hand. “How can they fit you?”

I chuckle. “They stretch. Anyway, I'm not hanging them out here for God and the world to see.”

She laughs. “But God sees everything.”

“That may be so.” I shove the brightly colored pieces into my bag. “But that doesn't mean everyone else needs to see them too.” As I zip the backpack closed, a striped gray cat comes up and rubs against my legs. “Hello,” I say as I bend down to pet the friendly animal. “What's your name?”

“That's Rosie,” Katy tells me. “She's got three kittens in the woodshed.” She points to a small outbuilding near the house.

“Kittens?” I say eagerly. “Can I see them?”

“Sure. You can have them if you want.”

I chuckle as I follow her to the woodshed. “I can just imagine what my dad would say if I brought home three kittens.”

“They're old enough to leave their mamm now,” Katy says as she opens the door. “But no one around here needs more cats.”

I kneel down to where the little furry critters scurry up to greet us. I examine and pet each of them, finally gathering a friendly gray-and-white fluffball into my lap. “You're so sweet,” I coo as the animal cuddles up to my chin. The other kitties, with stripes like their mother, are preoccupied with climbing on the knees of my jeans. “I wish I could keep this one,” I tell Katy.

“Go ahead,” she urges. “Take it home with you if you want. That would mean one less home to find.” She scoops up the two lively kittens, holding them in her skirt like it's a hammock. “Or maybe I can talk Mamm into letting these guys stay in the barn. We already have a few barn cats. A few more shouldn't really matter. Although Daed complains sometimes.”

As I continue to pet the affectionate kitten, I consider this possibility. What if I did adopt this kitty? It's not like we can't have pets in our condo, although every time I've asked Dad
about a dog, he's said no. He claims that we're gone too much and a dog would be lonely. But I've never asked him about a cat. Aren't they kind of independent?

“That one's a girl,” Katy tells me.

“She's so pretty.” I peer down into the big, pale green eyes, knowing this feline is getting me hooked.

“What would you name her?”

I study the cat closely, then look back up at Katy. “How about Katy?”

Katy laughs. “You'd name a cat after me?”

“Why not?” I smile. “I like you.”

She shrugs. “
Ja
. Why not name her Katy?”

“Little Katy,” I murmur as I cuddle the furry kitten close to my face. “Maybe I will take you home with me.”

“That would be very good,” Katy declares. “Mamm will be happy.”

“It would be nice to see your mother happy about something.” I gently set the kitten back down, watching as she scrambles after her mother, who's just climbing into a cardboard box.

“Mamm is happy sometimes,” Katy says a bit defensively.

“I'm sorry,” I say quickly as I get to my feet. “I shouldn't have said that, Katy. I'm not saying your mother isn't a happy person. I just know she's not happy that I came back.”

Katy shrugs as she leads us back out into the bright sunlight, closing and latching the door to the shed. “
Ja
. That's true. But I still believe it was right to go get you in town. It is not good for you to be there by yourself and overnight.”

“What about what you said about your brother?” I question. “Does Zach really want to talk to me? About the letter I left for him this morning?”

She gives me that impish smile again. “I cannot say for certain, but I think he wants to talk to you, Micah.”

“Think?”
I narrow my eyes as she leads me into the garden. What is she saying?

“
Ja
. That is what I think,” she declares as she bends down to pull a weed. “My stubborn brother just does not know it yet.”

For a while I don't say anything. I try not to show my irritation as I follow her lead in extracting dandelions from the path that goes between the garden beds. I toss my handful of weeds into the bucket where she's been throwing hers, then, tired of this game, I pull out my phone to check the time. Did Katy trick me into coming back here with her? If so, why? I question my own gullibility and wonder what time it will be if I walk back to town again. Except that the blister on my heel still hurts.

Why did Dad have to choose today to fly to Chicago? I decide to send him a text asking him his whereabouts, just in case there's some off chance he could swing down this way and pick me up at some nearby municipal airport. Surely there's one somewhere around here. As my phone connects to service, I'm not surprised to see I have twenty-six texts from Lizzie. I quickly text her back to say I'm conserving my charge but I'm still at Zach's farm and promising to be in touch later. She is such a phone addict. I sometimes pride myself on the fact that I can go for hours without checking my phone. She can barely let her phone out of her hand to use the toilet. But to be honest, I'm sure I'd get uncomfortable real fast if my phone went dead. The idea of being completely cut off is unsettling. Especially out here in the middle of nowhere.

“Want to come see Molly with me?” Katy asks hopefully.

“Molly?” I turn off my phone and focus on Katy.

“Our mare,” she reminds me. “She's going to foal soon.”

“Oh, yeah.” I drop my phone into my bag. “She hasn't had her baby yet?”

“Not that I know of.”

As I walk with Katy to the barn, I glance around, hoping to catch a glimpse of Zach, but no such luck. “Where is everyone?” I ask. “Planting corn?”

“Oh, no. We don't work on the Sabbath. Nothing more than tending to animals and fixing food. It's a day of rest.” Her brow creases with concern. “Do the English not respect the Sabbath?”

“Well . . . yes and no.” I frown. “I'm not sure, really. I mean, yeah, we go to church like you do. But some people work on Sunday.”

She gives me a knowing look, glancing down at my jeans. “
Ja
, the English are not like us in many ways. I know this is true.”

“Are you offended by how I dress?” I ask.

She shrugs. “No, no. You are English. You think it is all right to dress like a man.” She giggles. “But I would not be comfortable like that.” She reaches over and tweaks one of my messy curls. “I'm surprised you do not wear your hair like a boy too.”

“I don't always dress like a boy,” I insist, although according to Amish ways, this isn't exactly true since I rarely wear dresses or skirts. Just the same, no one has ever mistaken me for a boy before.

The barn is cool and shadowy inside. It smells of hay and dust and manure. “Here is our precious Molly,” Katy announces as we stand next to a stall where a dark brown
horse is standing motionless with her head hanging down. “Poor Molly.” Katy goes inside the stall, running her hand along a swollen side. “It won't be long now.”

The mare lets out a throaty sound, moving her head from side to side as if she is uncomfortable.

“Is she in pain?” I ask quietly.

“I don't think so. Not yet anyway. That will come later.”

I go inside the stall too, reaching out to pet the horse's sleek coat. “Poor old girl,” I tell her. “I hope your baby comes soon.”

As we're trying to comfort Molly, I notice the light from an opening door slicing through the barn, and I glance over to see what appears to be Zach coming inside. Suddenly I feel uneasy and nervous. I exchange a look with Katy, and she calls out, “We're over here with Molly, Zach. Have you come to check on her?”

“How is she doing?” Zach walks toward the stall, then, seeing me, turns abruptly around and heads back to the door. It's obvious he does not want to see me.

“Zach,” Katy calls out in a demanding tone. “Don't you want to check on Molly?”

“Not right now,” he snaps at her as he opens the door. Just like that, he's gone.

“I am sorry,” she tells me. “My brother is not usually this ill-mannered.”

“I think that Zach, like your mom, is not very pleased to see that I'm back,” I mutter as I let myself out of the stall. “Is there someplace I can just hang until tomorrow?” I ask.

“Hang?” She looks confused.

“Sorry. I mean, is there someplace where I can just sort of hide? To stay out of Zach and your mother's way? You know . . . until it's time to go to town and catch the bus tomorrow.”

She shrugs, then points to a ladder that leads up to what appears to be a loft. “Sometimes I go up there when I want to be alone.” She glances around, almost like she thinks someone else might be watching us, although I'm sure we're the only ones in here. “There's an old swing,” she says eagerly. “Want to try it?”

“Sure,” I tell her. “Why not?”

The next thing I know I'm following her up the ladder, and she uses a rake to pull down a rope swing that's been looped over a big beam. “Zach and I put this up a few years ago. But when Jeremiah fell and hit his head, Daed told us to get rid of it. So we keep it where Sammy and Jeri can't reach it, but we sometimes still swing on it when no one's around.” She offers the knotted rope to me.

“What do you do?” I ask with uncertainty as I look down below.

She giggles. “You swing.” She walks over to a corner of the loft and, holding the rope tautly, pulls up her skirt to expose her long black stockings. Then she wraps her legs around the rope and takes a flying leap, swinging back and forth across the barn like some kind of awkward-looking bluebird. Eventually the swing slows to a stop, and she jumps off and carries the end of the rope up the ladder. She hands it to me. “Your turn.”

I follow her example, and soon I'm soaring back and forth through the barn just like she did. We both take several more turns, and I'm about to leap off the loft again, but Katy hears a noise and stops me.

“We better not,” she says with a worried look. “Daed will be coming in to check on Molly soon. He won't be happy to see us playing.” She tosses the swing up over the beam and out of reach.

We're about to go down the ladder when I hear a thump in the loft and a big black cat saunters toward us. “And who are you?” I reach down to pet his thick, furry coat.

“That's Lucky,” Katy says. “Our best barn cat.”

He purrs as I pet him, but I notice that most of his tail seems to be missing. “What happened to his tail?”

“Got caught in the thresher,” she says.

“Oh, yeah. I remember,” I tell her. “Zach wrote about that. Didn't he rescue Lucky as a kitten?”

“
Ja
. He saved his life. The reason he named him Lucky was because no one expected him to survive. He was cut up bad.”

“Zach really likes helping animals, doesn't he?”

“
Ja
. Did he write to you about the lamb with the broken leg?” she asks as she goes down the ladder.

“Not that I remember,” I say as I follow her.

“It got hurt during the birthing. Daed wanted to put it down, but Zach insisted on wrapping the little leg with a splint, and now the lamb can run around just fine.”

Back down on the barn floor, Katy pauses to brush loose straw from her dress, smoothing her hair away from her face and making sure that her little white
kapp
is secure. Then she grins at me with a twinkle in her eyes. “That was fun. I haven't been on that swing for a long time.”