A Path Made Plain Read online

  “All—all right.” It was only lunch, she kept telling herself, even as Daniel put the tools into the rear of the van, followed by her cleaning supplies.

  “Don’t be nervous. I’ll follow you on my bicycle, and you can get us a spot in line.”

  Rochelle nodded. Her heart beat faster. “I’ll see you there in a few minutes.”

  16

  Aenti Chelle had been acting strangely, ever since the day of Aenti Sarah’s surgery. At first, Betsy paid the change little mind, but after a week, she stopped holding her silence when on her aenti’s day off, she entered Pinecraft Pies and Pastry along with Daniel Troyer.

  Daniel stood at the coffee station, pouring two cups of coffee while Aenti Chelle studied the fresh pastries and pies in the case.

  “I don’t know what to choose. I know everything’s delicious. Daniel, what do you want?” She glanced over at him, her cheeks flushed.

  “Surprise me,” the man said with a grin.

  Aenti Chelle turned her attention back to the glass display case. “I’ll have a glazed doughnut and a chocolate fried pie, please.”

  “Right away.” Betsy pulled one of each from the case and placed them on small paper plates. She leaned across the counter and whispered to her aenti. “So, you like this Daniel Troyer?”

  “I do. I do.” Aenti Chelle’s gaze slid sideways. “Careful, or he’ll hear you.”

  Betsy nodded, sliding the plates toward her aunt. “No charge for you today.”

  “Oh, Betsy, I couldn’t.”

  “You’ve been such a help and an encouragement to me, and I’m grateful.”

  “Well, thank you.” Her blush deepened, the closer Daniel came.

  With steaming cups of coffee in both hands, Daniel joined Aenti Chelle at the case. “So what did you choose?”

  “Glazed doughnut for me, a chocolate fried pie for you. They’re still warm.”

  “Wonderful.” A shiny flash at his wrist caught Betsy’s attention.

  “That’s some watch, Mr. Troyer.”

  “Ah, my watch.” He touched his wrist with his right hand. “It was a gift. I know it’s a little flashy, but it does its job well. Of keeping time.”

  Was it her imagination, or did her observation of the watch make him nervous? Betsy tried not to frown as the couple walked to a small table by the front window. Daniel Troyer claimed to be a distant relative. But something didn’t sit right about him. She dared not ask her family, not now. But maybe Thaddeus would help her. He could use a computer and she trusted him. She sighed as she entered the kitchen to see if Vera’s pies were ready. From the delightful smell in the kitchen, she guessed they were.

  Aenti Chelle was, as the Englisch said, smitten. All the more reason to see if Daniel Troyer had any secrets. But Betsy almost envied her aenti. She knew the feeling well, had felt her heart pound raucously in her chest when saying good-bye to Thaddeus this morning, him leaving the bakery as she arrived.

  Vera Byler, though, put a damper on any dizziness Betsy might have had while watching Thaddeus depart shortly before dawn.

  “Pies are almost done,” Vera said now, looking up from rolling out more dough. “I’m not surprised we’re not busier.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Thanksgiving’s tomorrow and everyone is picking up their pies from Yoder’s instead.” She frowned as she rolled out one more crust for pumpkin.

  “I’m not surprised either, but it’s all right. I make more than pie here.” She gritted her teeth. Aenti Sarah had been far more easy to deal with.

  “I can’t see this place lasting longer than your lease. I hear most businesses close within the first year. How long is your lease, anyway?”

  “Six months.” She wanted to add, “Not as though that’s any of your business,” but said nothing more. Vera had been the one to remark about Betsy joining the ranks of the old maids before too long.

  “How late do you plan to stay open today?”

  “Until six o’ clock. I hope some people will stop by the bakery on their way home from work. I ran ads in the Sarasota newspaper.” Betsy glanced at the clock. Eight more hours, then they’d close and go to their homes to help their families continue Thanksgiving dinner preparations.

  “I certainly do hope you’re not wasting your family’s money.” Vera picked up a bowl of pumpkin pie filling, ready to pour into the crusts.

  “Mrs. Byler, it’s been my fervent prayer for a long time now.” She felt her hackles rising, like one of the yard dogs back home. Vera giving voice to Betsy’s fears almost made her shudder. Her irritation cooled a bit. Vera wasn’t trying to hurt. In her own negative way, she was trying to help.

  The bell to the door outside clanged, and Betsy scurried out to the sales floor.

  Gideon Stoltzfus, again. She then remembered how she’d treated Jacob, and gave Gideon a sympathetic smile.

  “Good morning, Gideon.”

  “Betsy. I’ll have the usual. I’d also like to purchase a whole pie, please.” He grinned at her, then stepped over to the coffee pot. “Ah, I see your coffee is running low. I can refill the tank for you.”

  “No, thank you, but if you bring me the reservoir I can refill it. What kind of pie would you like?”

  “Strawberry rhubarb. I’m taking it to my grandparents’ for dessert tomorrow.” He returned, holding the empty water reservoir for the coffee maker.

  “Thank you.” Betsy pulled out a paper plate and also Gideon’s usual, a sticky bun covered with nuts and raisins. She took the plastic container from him, then entered the kitchen.

  How could she let him down easy? She’d done it before. Or so she’d thought. She’d even tried the direct approach the first day he marched into the bakery. However, every morning since he’d been in Pinecraft, he came to the bakery and purchased a sticky bun and helped himself to a cup of coffee before leaving to go off and do who knew what.

  Now wasn’t the time for crushing his hopes, however. She filled the water tank for the coffee, then reentered the sales floor. Gideon waited at the counter, still grinning. He’d already taken a bite of the sticky bun.

  “A group of us are going to the beach on Sunday. Maybe you could come with us.”

  She hesitated while passing the edge of the counter on her way to the coffeemaker. He knew her weak spot, the beach. She hadn’t taken the time since she’d returned to Pinecraft to make the twenty-minute trip to Siesta Key Beach, to kick off her flip-flops and wiggle her toes in the sand.

  As she reconnected the water reservoir to the coffeemaker, she considered his offer. Going as a group. Maybe, if she were clear about things, she would go. A few of her friends had arrived in Pinecraft for winter vacation, and she had yet to see them.

  Betsy turned to face Gideon. “I’m not sure.” The sales floor was empty, save Aenti Chelle and Daniel. “I’ve been busy with the bakery, and now with Aenti Sarah having surgery.”

  “Surely you don’t have to stay in the village on Sunday. You can visit your aenti and then go to the beach.”

  “I suppose I could.” At that, his face brightened. “But, Gideon, please understand. You are my friend, and only a friend. I’ve known you my entire life, and I don’t see you as anything more. I’m sorry if, before, you might have had, um, ideas about us.”

  Now, his expression sank a little. “I do understand. It’s why I mentioned all of us going, in a group.”

  She imagined the sand, white as cake flour, under her feet. The call of the birds, the sight of the blue waters, and scent of salt.

  “All right. I’ll go. What time were you all thinking?”

  “About five or so.” Gideon grinned widely. “Now, my pie?”

  “Oh, yes. Strawberry rhubarb. I’ll go fetch a box for it.” Betsy scurried from the bakery sales floor.

  *

  Thad listened to the voices drifting from the house, but maintained his spot outside on the back patio. He occupied one of a pair of chairs facing the yard. The last time he’d had a Thanksgivi
ng meal like this and had the chance to kick back was the last November he’d lived at home. Since then, Thanksgiving meant another day to work and feed hungry crowds who would rather go out to eat than stay home. This meant a succession of upscale desserts ranging from pumpkin flan to a chocolate mousse with an accompanying cranberry foam.

  He rubbed his stomach. He’d pay for this tomorrow, he was sure. Mammi had put out two tables for the meal, butted up against each other, with the family occupying one table, and him seated at the end at the smaller table, along with the few extra dishes not on the main table.

  Their version of shunning, by not “eating with him” at the same table. The awkward table setup was covered with a voluminous white tablecloth covering both tables. Thad knew, though, where one table stopped and the other began.

  At first, conversation had been strained, halting after Daed’s prayer over their supper. Daed had said nothing to him as they ate, but his gaze kept wandering in Thad’s direction.

  The last long conversation he’d had with his father had been seared into his memory. Pleading, outrage, preaching, Scriptures, condemnation, concluding with exasperation. Thad’s resolve to leave and further his education in a nontraditional field grew with each approach Daed had taken.

  At tonight’s meal, none of that had happened, thankfully. Perhaps Daed had decided today wasn’t the time or the place.

  When someone did talk to Thad, it was about the bakery as well as his work with Henry Hostetler, which had tapered off for the time being with Thad helping at Pinecraft Pies and Pastry. Thad gave answers readily enough, all the while allowing his taste buds to rejoice at his family’s cooking.

  The back screen door banged.

  “There you are,” his mamm said as she stepped off the patio. “Did you get enough to eat?”

  “More than enough.” Thad patted his stomach again.

  She wiped her hands on her apron before she sat down. “Good. It’s good to see you at our table again.” She switched from English to Dietsch.

  Thad braced himself mentally. He noted a few more wrinkles in Mamm’s face, on her hands. “The food is as good as I remembered, probably better.”

  “Your mammi didn’t say you were here, visiting, in her last letter to us.”

  “I wondered if she would.”

  “You know you can always come home again. Your daed says Henry Hostetler spoke highly of your work. You’re quite good at tiling. I’m sure your daed can help find a job for you somewhere.”

  Thad frowned. Mamm’s voice held soft, tender tones.

  “I can’t go back. I’m sorry.” Henry was probably trying to smooth things over between Thad and his daed by complimenting Thad’s skills, but consigning a family member to hell couldn’t be fixed by a mere career change.

  Her face crestfallen, she glanced toward the house. “Truthfully, I never minded you wanting to be a baker or chef. But your daed, and the bishop, and the others …”

  “It’s okay, Mamm. I made my decision a long time ago. I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re unsettled, like—like a boat without an oar.” She waved her hand to create a breeze. “Being among the Englisch hasn’t been good for you.”

  He didn’t care to argue with his mamm, not only because of lack of respect, but because he half-agreed with her. A boat without an oar. Drifting through life, unable to steer or find direction.

  “If I don’t have an oar, maybe I can find a sail.” He smiled, hoping his mamm would as well. “Mamm, it could have happened even with me not being among the Englisch.”

  “You need us, and we need you, too. All of us.” Her voice caught.

  You weren’t made to blend in; you were made to stand out.

  “I—I’m sorry.” What else could he say? The old smothering feeling was coming back. He sucked in a breath.

  “I pray one day you are sorry enough.” Mamm frowned, then got up from the chair and strode to the house.

  Thad released the breath, then sighed. Laughter and chatter inside, without him. Someone said something about breaking out the dominoes or the corn hole set. Thad almost wished he could join them. If he couldn’t be accepted as he was, he couldn’t be a part at all. Sure, Pinecraft was a good place to pretend he fit. However, face-to-face with his family again, his pretending wore thin.

  He stood. Should he go inside, to have a cup of coffee and more dessert, or sit at the edge of the group and be a reminder of the pain he’d caused?

  No, a walk through the village. Thad trudged around to the front of the house and glanced at his neglected motorcycle. He’d ordered a new helmet online and it was due to arrive soon. If he was going to start anywhere again, he at least needed it to get around.

  His footsteps carried him away from Mammi’s house and in the direction of the park. He could sit in a corner of the pavilion at a picnic table, or keep walking. If the homeless man could hang out in the park, so could he.

  Another figure approached the park, too, causing Thad to smile again. Betsy, walking along with a dachshund resembling a short, round sausage more than a hot dog.

  Betsy glanced up and saw him, and a shy grin flickered across her face. She murmured something at the dog waddling along on four paws, then glanced Thad’s way again.

  “Happy Thanksgiving,” he said as they drew closer to each other.

  “Happy Thanksgiving to you,” she replied, then cast another glance at the dog, who sniffed Thad’s leg, then sat up on his haunches, his front paws tucked under his chin. The dog’s tail whipped side to side.

  “Well, hello there, little guy.” He reached down and patted the dog, who then flopped over on his side, exposing his wide belly. “Have you kept out of trouble, Winston?”

  “Mostly, except when he’s begging for table scraps.” Then Betsy laughed, the sound like soft musical notes.

  “This guy is just lapping up the attention.” Thad rubbed the dog’s belly. “I love dogs. Never had time for one, with the hours I worked and living in an apartment and all. It wouldn’t have been fair to him.”

  “I never have had a dog, either. He showed up one day and decided to live with me. So I kept him.”

  They continued walking toward the park, Thad keeping his stride short so Winston wouldn’t have to keep up on his stubbly little legs. “I don’t remember seeing many dogs in Pinecraft.”

  “There’s not. There’s another dachshund, it so happens, a few blocks away, named Belle.” Betsy let out a low sigh.

  “What’s wrong? Is it your Aenti Sarah?”

  Betsy shook her head. “No, she’s doing well after her surgery. She’s staying with us right now, since Aenti Chelle has the extra room, and everyone is taking turns caring for her. But I had to get out for a little bit. Aenti Chelle had the whole family over for supper, since she has the largest kitchen, and of course, because Aenti Sarah is staying with us.”

  “But … ?” They paused at the split rail fence and watched a few youths playing volleyball.

  “I don’t want to talk out of turn about anyone, but I’m worried about Aenti Chelle.”

  “What’s wrong? I promise, I won’t say anything.”

  “It’s not so much her. It’s Daniel Troyer. She smiles at him like she’s one of the youth.”

  “Who’s Daniel Troyer?”

  “That’s it. I don’t know. He’s older. Not old-old, like Aenti Sarah, but older than us. He’s not married and he’s here in Pinecraft for the winter. He claims to be a second or third cousin. I’m not good at our family tree, the older ones are, but none of them said anything.”

  “What do you think is wrong about him?”

  “It sounds silly, but it’s his watch.”

  “His watch?”

  “It’s not Plain. It’s flashy, and gold. I think I saw a diamond at the spot for twelve o’clock.” Betsy frowned. “I don’t know. It’s nothing. My sister thinks it’s nothing. But she’s engaged to be married and in love, so she thinks I’m just jealous of Aenti Chelle. And her, too.
Anyway, for a Plain man, Daniel Troyer has a very fancy watch.”

  Thad grunted. He’d heard of some liberal districts where watches weren’t frowned upon, as they were useful and not merely ornamental. “How can I help you?”

  “I don’t know. You know how to use the Internet. Daniel mentioned the name of the company he works for. I, uh, I wanted to try to check to see if he works there.” Her cheeks shot with red, she looked him straight in the eye.

  Thad suddenly realized how close they stood beside the fence, and noticed Betsy had three freckles on the side of her nose, her eyes weren’t just blue, but had a hint of green around the irises. He wanted to make the worry crease between her eyebrows disappear.

  “I … yes, I don’t mind helping you. If you’d like, write down what you know, and give the paper to me tomorrow morning, before I leave the bakery.”

  “We’re not open tomorrow. I …” She licked her lips, then suddenly shot forward into his arms as Winston yanked on the leash.

  He caught her as well as the whiff of lavender soap and felt the catch of her breath. “Are you okay?” His fingers itched to the point of distraction, he wanted to let his fingers run through her hair, to feel the length of it run through them. He’d never seen her hair down, but let himself imagine it for this instance.

  “I’m—I’m fine,” she blurted, stepping back and pulling Winston toward her. “Winston, don’t ever do that again.” Head low, ears flopping, the dog trotted back and stopped at her feet.

  Thad hadn’t minded so much. The thought thrilled, yet pained him. If he let his mind wander, he could see himself and Betsy, together. The pain came when he realized it was a dream. He’d have to give up so much—freedom, for one thing. His individuality, for another. The idea of a “bad boy” appealed to some women, Amish and otherwise. And Thad didn’t consider himself “bad,” not compared to some of the guys he knew. Guys who’d sweet-talk a young woman like Betsy, take what they wanted of her dignity and innocence, then toss her to the side when they got bored or someone more appealing walked up to them.

  “So, like I said, write down what you know. Can we meet here, tomorrow morning then? I can start calling around. It’s a holiday weekend, so I might not be able to learn much.” He paused for a moment. “Maybe Imogene knows something. She knows a lot about everyone, it seems.”