Susanna's Dream: The Lost Sisters of Pleasant Valley, Book Two Read online

  She could imagine Dora’s reaction at hearing her son imply she was getting old. “None of us are doing that.”

  A flash of exasperation crossed his face, but he reined it in quickly. Nate was a man who didn’t let his feelings show. He always had a pleasant smile for his customers, but his eyes seemed constantly on guard.

  “True enough. I didn’t come here to argue with you, Susanna. I want to ask for your help.”

  “My help?” That was surprising. Nate didn’t seem to need anyone’s assistance, as far as she could tell. He’d built up his successful business on his own, and according to his mother, he controlled every aspect of it, no matter how small.

  His face relaxed into a smile, his usually cautious blue eyes warming in an expression Susanna had never seen before . . . one that gave her a funny, prickling feeling along her skin. “Ja. I apologize. I shouldn’t beat around the bush, ain’t so?”

  Most women would have trouble resisting the genuine smile that appeared so rarely on his face, and she didn’t seem to be an exception. “What do you need?”

  He hesitated for a moment. “I would like your help with my mother.”

  “With Dora?” Her breath caught. “Is something wrong with her?”

  “No, no.” He touched her sleeve lightly in reassurance, and his warmth penetrated the fabric, startling her. “She is getting older, that’s all, and I fear she’s working too hard. She ought to be able to take it easy now that her kinder are grown.”

  Susanna tried to imagine the ever-busy Dora sitting in a rocking chair with her knitting instead of being up and doing. She couldn’t. How best to convey that to Nate?

  “Maybe your mamm doesn’t want to take it easy.”

  “Sometimes people aren’t the best judge of what’s good for them,” he countered.

  “True enough.” A frown wrinkled her forehead. “If you think Dora should take more time off, I am happy to work longer hours in the shop.” Probably everyone in Oyersburg’s Amish community knew she had little else in her life just now.

  “Ach, we both know how she is.” His smile invited her to agree with him. “She’d be in here every day anyway just to make sure things were running fine.”

  Susanna realized she was staring at him, studying the strong lines of his face for any clues to what he was really saying. “You know I would do anything for Dora, but I’m not sure what you want from me.”

  His gaze sharpened as if he’d finally reached the heart of the matter. “It’s simple, Susanna. I want you to persuade my mother to give up the shop.”

  The words fell with such stunning swiftness that they shocked her into immobility. Nate went on talking, but his voice was only a background to the panic that swept in as she realized the impact of his proposal.

  “. . . you might buy my mother out if you wanted to run the shop on your own, of course. Or I thought maybe since your mother is gone, you’d want to move back to Ohio, where you grew up. You’d have friends and kinfolk there. I’m sure the shop was a good solution when you had your mamm to take care of, but now you’re free to—”

  “No.” The word came out with explosive force.

  For a moment Nate didn’t speak. “No what?” His brows gathered like thunderclouds forming.

  “No, I will not try to talk Dora into doing something I don’t think she wants to do.” A few other words crowded her lips, words about bossy men and people who thought they had all the answers, but she held them back. It was not in her nature to start a quarrel.

  “I think I know what is best for my mother.” Nate’s voice had hardened.

  She hesitated, but she had to say what she felt. “And I think your mother knows what’s best for her.”

  Nate’s shoulders stiffened. “Then I guess we don’t have anything more to say to each other.” He settled his hat squarely on his head and stalked out, disapproval conveyed in every line of his body.

  The door closed hard enough to make the bell nearly jangle off its hook. Susanna stood immobile until Nate had passed the shop window and disappeared. Then she clasped her hand over her lips.

  She would not cry. She would not give in to despair.

  But if Nate had his way . . .

  The money she had left after her mother’s final illness was nowhere near enough to buy out Dora’s half of the business. What was she going to do? She couldn’t lose the shop. She didn’t have anything else.

  * * *

  Nathaniel

  was still brooding over his conversation with Susanna at closing time that afternoon. The woman had gotten under his skin with her pointed questions and outright refusal to do as he asked. He hadn’t expected it—that was the trouble.

  Susanna had always seemed such a quiet little mouse, with her halting walk and her habit of effacing herself until a person forgot she was even there. Well, apparently this mouse had teeth.

  Closing out the cash register, he swept an experienced glance around his store. Everything seemed to be in order, with the floors swept, the cans neatly stacked, shopping baskets and carts returned to their places. He made a mental note to increase his order for the granola that Tibby Byler made for the shop. It had been selling wonderful well with the first few cooler days of September.

  Susie and Anna Mae Mast, the two teenage girls he employed to help in the shop, were lowering the shades on the front windows. Anna Mae, the older sister, seemed to notice him watching them. She came toward him with a bit of a sway in her walk.

  “All finished,” she announced. “Susie has to hurry off home, but I can stay and help you with restocking, if you want.”

  The swift upward glance to see how he took the offer set Nate on guard. He must be close to fifteen years older than the girl, and Anna Mae had too much of an eye for the main chance. He’d become an expert at avoiding unwanted lures in the twelve years since Mary Ann had died.

  “No, denke,” he said crisply. “You go on home to your mamm. She can probably use your help, ja?”

  Pouting a little, she withdrew. The two girls collected bonnets and sweaters and clattered their way to the door. Busying himself with an order sheet, he still couldn’t help overhearing Susie’s satisfied tone.

  “See? I told you so. Everyone knows he’s still in love with his wife, even after all these years.” The door snapped closed on Anna Mae’s answer.

  He’d crumpled the order sheet he held. Annoyed with himself, he ripped it up and tossed it in the trash. He ought to be used to comments like that by now. He ought to feel as calm and unconcerned on the inside as he showed on the outside.

  Too bad the bitter taste still flared at the unexpected mention of his supposed pining for his lost wife. If folks knew the truth—

  Well, they didn’t, and they never would. Whatever people thought or said was better than what had really happened. Truth was a fine thing, but not when it hurt innocent people.

  Locking the doors of both shop and memory, he crossed the parking lot to his house behind the store. One thing he might thank Mary Ann for, he supposed, glancing back at the store. Thanks to her, he’d spent his twenties concentrating on building up a thriving business, turning the family farm over to his next younger brother, Jonah. He’d been able to provide well for his mother and all the younger ones, and that satisfied him.

  He went in the back door, as usual, and found his mother in the kitchen, browning some chicken in a pan on the stove. Her hair was entirely gray now, and her back bent from years of hard work. He crossed the kitchen and gave her a quick hug.

  “Didn’t I tell you not to bother with supper tonight?” His mock scolding had a serious undertone. “You’ll be tired from your trip to the doctor’s.”

  “Ach, what is there about a trip to the doctor to tire me out?” She swatted at him with a pot holder, her lined face crinkling into a smile. “I was back in plenty of time to stop by the shop before Susanna closed.�
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  He couldn’t help stiffening. If Susanna had told her about his visit, the fat would be in the fire for sure. “Everything all right with Susanna?”

  His mother’s eyebrows lifted. “As right as it can be. She’s still grieving for her mamm, poor child.”

  Nate made sympathetic noises, relieved. Susanna hadn’t said anything, then. Today seemed to be a day for her to surprise him.

  Sitting on the edge of the heavy oak kitchen table, he studied his mother, concerned by the sudden awareness of how she was aging that he’d felt when he walked in. The wrinkles around her eyes and mouth were pronounced, but a person seldom noticed them because of her warm smile. Despite the briskness of her movements as she forked chicken onto a platter and stirred the homemade noodles that were his favorite, she was showing her age.

  “What did the doctor say about your headaches?” He couldn’t help the rough edge of concern in his voice.

  “It’s nothing, just like I’ve been telling you.” But she didn’t look at him as she said it.

  “And the dizzy spells. You told the doctor about them, didn’t you?” There had only been two spells, over quickly, that she’d told him about. He couldn’t help worrying that there had been more that she’d kept to herself.

  She hesitated, hand poised with the wooden spoon above the kettle. “All right. You don’t need to be so nosy. I told him, and he said my blood pressure is a little high, that’s all. He gave me some pills that should help, and I’m supposed to go back in two months.” She glared at him. “Now you know everything, so stop worrying, ja?”

  He stood and put his arm around her shoulders. “You should be taking it easier,” he said, imperfectly hiding his concern. “You’ve worked hard all your life. Now it’s time to let your kinder take care of you.”

  They both knew why she’d had to work so hard, though neither of them would mention it. His father had been that most unusual creature, a lazy Amish man, constantly worrying about his own health and doctoring himself with one quack medicine after another while his wife worked to feed their kinder. And it hadn’t been his imagined ill health that had taken him in the end but a reckless driver and his own habit of walking on the road after dark.

  “I’d rather wear out than rust out,” his mother said testily. “Now stop bothering me with such talk.”

  He was wise enough to know arguing wouldn’t get him anywhere, but he had to try. “You could at least think about giving up the shop.”

  He seemed to hear Susanna’s voice, as sharp as a tack in his mind. Maybe she knows better than you do what’s best for her?

  “Why would I do that?” His mother looked at him in what seemed to be genuine amazement. “I like the shop, and besides, Susanna couldn’t manage it alone. I can’t let her down.”

  “I’m sure Susanna could—”

  His mother interrupted sharply. “Enough. I’m not in my dotage yet. And I forbid you to say a thing about this foolishness to Susanna. She has enough on her mind right now.”

  He nodded meekly enough, but his mind buzzed with the implication of what she’d said. It seemed to him that her devotion to running the shop had more to do with Susanna than with her own wishes.

  It wasn’t right. His mother had worked herself to the bone for Daad, for him, for his brother and sisters. He wasn’t going to let her do the same for a woman who wasn’t even kin.

  Susanna might be a nice enough woman, but she couldn’t stand in the way of his taking care of his own mamm. He wouldn’t allow it.

  * * *

  The

  gift shop was busier the next day, with its bell tinkling happily as folks came in and out. Maybe the weather had something to do with it—a few days of rain had given way to a sparkling September day, warm and with only the slanting angle of the sunshine to remind a person that fall was on the way.

  Susanna found herself watching Dora from time to time, looking for any evidence of . . . well, whatever it was that had Dora’s son convinced she should retire. She was ashamed that her first instinct had been for her own future. She should have been concerned for her friend.

  And Dora was a friend, despite the difference in their ages. They had worked together for five years, with never a cross word between them. Dora, despite being older and the senior partner in their business, always treated Susanna as an equal, valuing her opinion and ideas.

  Try as she might, she could see no sign of worry on Dora’s face. Still, there had been that doctor’s appointment yesterday.

  They were working together at the moment, stacking the quilted place mats a customer had pulled out. The woman had, it seemed, looked at everything in the shop before deciding she didn’t want to buy anything today after all. “Looky-Lous,” Dora called people like that.

  Susanna smoothed a nine-patch runner flat with her palm, sending a cautious sideways glance at Dora. “I didn’t ask you yesterday when you got back, but how was your doctor’s visit? Everything all right?” She made an effort to keep her voice casual, but she feared worry might show in it.

  Eyes bright, Dora darted a quick look toward her. “You, too? You’re as bad as Nate, fussing so over a little doctor’s visit. I’m fine.”

  “So Nate’s worried about you?” She carefully kept her gaze on the quilted pieces, not wanting to give away Nathaniel’s visit.

  “Ach, he’s a gut boy.” Dora’s tone was indulgent. “He worries too much, is all. Just because I had a few headaches—”

  “You didn’t tell me that.” Alarm threaded Susanna’s voice.

  “Pooh, everyone gets a headache once in a while. The doctor did say my blood pressure was a little high, and it was time I went on medicine for it. That’s nothing for Nate to make a fuss about.”

  “I’m glad that’s all it is.” Relief swept through Susanna. That surely wasn’t anything too bad. Lots of people Dora’s age had to take medication for high blood pressure.

  Maybe Nate had just reacted too soon with his talk of Dora retiring. “You wouldn’t like it if your son wasn’t concerned about you, ain’t so?”

  “I suppose that’s true, but I don’t want him to worry.” It was Dora’s turn to stare down at the place mats. “He’s always been the responsible one, even before his daad died. I don’t know how I’d have raised the younger ones without his help. He just seemed born to take care of others. Too bad he doesn’t have a houseful of kinder.”

  Susanna wasn’t sure what to say to that comment. Other folks mentioned sometimes how devoted Nate was to the memory of his beautiful young wife, dead before they’d been married even a year. But Dora had never talked about why Nate was the way he was.

  “He’s a gut son,” she finally said.

  He was also rather bossy and intent on having his own way, but Dora probably didn’t see that aspect of him.

  “Ja, he is,” Dora agreed, smiling. “I’m not ready for the rocking chair just yet, but I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to take things a little easier if that would make him happy.”

  Susanna nodded, but worry wound a tighter knot in her chest. If Dora wanted to make her son happy, how far might she go? Far enough to want to give up the shop?

  “There, that’s done.” Dora gave the stack of place mats a pat. “I think I’ll put the kettle on. Do you think our visitor would like a cup of your herbal tea?” She raised her eyes briefly to the ceiling.

  Susanna smiled. Their visitor was not, as one might suppose from the gesture, in Heaven, but only in the upstairs storage rooms of the shop.

  “I’ll ask her,” she said quickly, and headed for the steps to the second floor.

  Chloe Wentworth had started dropping by the shop several months earlier, but it had only been since she’d moved in down the street that she’d become such a frequent visitor. The young Englisch woman had such an interest in Plain Crafts that she was writing some sort of paper on them as part of her degree program. D
ora and Susanna had been able to put her in touch with two of their craftspeople who were willing to talk to her, and Dora already had ideas of others.

  In the meantime, Chloe was photographing and writing about the different items in the shop, using the upstairs storerooms as a work area.

  “Chloe?” Susanna emerged into the upstairs, glancing around the two large rooms. “Where are you?”

  “Here.” Chloe’s head popped up behind a stack of boxes. “Sorry. I was looking through this box of table runners. I’m surprised you don’t have them on display.”

  Chloe was slim and quick, with a mop of auburn hair and a pair of lively green eyes. She wore, as usual, faded jeans and a T-shirt, and her black-rimmed glasses were pushed up on her head. Sometimes Susanna thought she used them more to hold her hair back than to see through.

  “No room,” Susanna said, making her way between boxes toward Chloe. “We could use twice the display space we have. Dora says if you’re ready for a break, come down for a cup of tea.”

  “Sounds good.” But Chloe was studying the postage-stamp quilting on a table runner with such intensity that Susanna wasn’t sure she’d heard. “Just hold the end of this, will you, so I can get a picture.”

  Susanna took the end obligingly. “Take pictures of anything I own except my face,” she said, only half joking.

  Chloe, nodding, focused on the detail of the quilting. “I might not be an expert on the Amish, but I do know not to take your picture,” she said.

  “You know more than most Englischers,” Susanna said. A totally unexpected friendship had formed between the two women in the past month. When Susanna thought about it, she couldn’t really explain it, but there just seemed to be a link between them.

  Maybe it was partly because Chloe was new in town, although she’d said she had family near here. Even though Susanna had lived in Oyersburg for seven years, she hadn’t formed the close friendships with other women her age that she might have hoped for.

  Natural enough, though. Amish women her age were married with families, and a maidal like Susanna was an anomaly. Since she hadn’t moved here until she was in her twenties, she didn’t have the shared history of school and rumspringa to create lasting friendships.