by the next morning. He put her on some pills to help her breathe easier, plus antibiotics twice a day to fight infection. The pills make her sleepy, and Doc says that’s a good thing. She’ll recover faster if she’s not trying to run around. Isaiah has that big dog sleeping on the foot of his bed.” He shook his head. “Big dog, big man—must make for cramped sleeping.” He walked toward the house twenty paces.
“And how is Isaiah?” she asked, trailing one pace behind him.
“He’s fine, Catherine. Just shook up by the ordeal.” Daniel halted, put his hands around his mouth, and hollered, “Abby, time to go. Get the kinner loaded up.”
“Thanks for telling me and for saving me from a hair-pulling.” She stepped around him to help Abby carry anything else needed for the noon meal, and then she climbed into the backseat to ride to preaching. Sitting between her niece and nephew, Catherine wouldn’t see Abby pouting and could therefore concentrate on what to do with the rest of her life. Maybe she would look for another job watching other people’s children because having her own had grown unlikely.
“The Lord said, come unto me all who are troubled and heavy laden, and I shall give you peace,” the bishop said in German. His words eased Catherine’s heart because she knew them to be true.
“He’s talking to you, sister,” whispered Abby over her daughter’s head.
“Jah, peace at mamm and daed’s,” Catherine whispered back.
Abby leaned over with another comment, but Catherine shook her head and stared at the doorway. A tardy man had entered the outbuilding and slipped into the last row on the men’s side—a man who looked familiar. Tall, with a broad chest and shoulders, he had an exotic complexion the color of olive oil. His loose-limbed, catlike movements indicated he’d be more comfortable anywhere but on a hard bench for a three-hour church service.
She blinked twice. This can’t be. Isaiah doesn’t come to preaching. He can’t hear Scripture or the sermons, and he can’t read the songbook to follow along with the hymns.
Daniel had been correct about that. Isaiah could never get to know God in the traditional way. Nevertheless, while she watched, the man on his right elbowed the late-arrival in the ribs, motioning for him to remove his hat.
Catherine gasped as the room tilted to one side. There was no mistaking the silky long black hair, tucked behind his ears without the traditional Amish bangs. The man was definitely Isaiah Graber. Her face flushed as the temperature skyrocketed inside the barn. She pulled away from his hypnotic dark eyes and looked at her sister. Abby was staring with the same slack-jawed shock. Laura turned from her mamm to her gefunden and whispered, “It’s Isaiah,” in case they hadn’t noticed.
After Catherine’s heart rate slowed, she chanced a second peek. He was surreptitiously watching her while mimicking the other men’s behavior. When their gazes met, he winked and smiled. She felt suddenly light-headed. Her palms had grown clammy, while her stomach complained about the meager handful of Cheerios. When it became hard to catch her breath, she feared she was suffering a heart attack. What better place to die than in a church?
For two sermons, much singing, many prayers, and plenty of Scripture, Catherine tried to keep her mind on worship, and at most times she succeeded. But during the three-hour service, something was growing deep in her gut—a seed of hope.
Why has he come? The only logical answer was hard for her to trust.
When church ended, people filed out into early fall sunshine to chat with friends and neighbors. Most of the women bustled to set the food on long tables for the noon meal. Catherine walked outdoors at her sister’s side, while Laura scampered off to join the girls headed to the swings.
“We don’t need your help with lunch, Catherine,” said Abby. “We have plenty of ladies. Plus I think there’s someone you need to talk to.” She arched an eyebrow. “Time’s awastin’. None of us is getting any younger.”
Catherine’s stomach twisted like a rope. “Okay, here goes nothing,” she said. Or everything, she thought. Meandering toward the shade, she found a spot to assess the situation. Isaiah stood in the barnyard, surrounded by young men. One man slapped Isaiah on the back, while another stepped close to speak something she couldn’t hear. At least they appeared to be taking turns and were not all talking at once. Isaiah glanced from one to the