Something Old - Dianne L. Christner [38]
Katy’s head whipped back toward her friend, her mind racing. “You’re kidding. My dad didn’t tell me about that.”
“Probably wanted to spare your feelings.”
She remembered her bedroom’s broken windowpane. So her dad had withheld important information from her while Lil barged in to control the situation. She clasped her chapped hands together, hating such manipulation.
“They meant well, I’m sure.”
Bless Megan’s heart, she understood the reason for Katy’s rising anger. And as usual, if Katy dug deep enough, she could see that her friend was right. For when it came to Jake, no matter how her friends and family responded, they wouldn’t be able to please her. Jake deserved her anger, not everyone else. “You’re right. Let’s go look at the cake.”
When they reached the table, Lil waved a slow-cooker lid. “Hi, guys.”
The cake had tiny pink bows for decoration and was scalloped with ribbon. “Cute cake,” Katy commented. “Can you do that ribbon thing, Lil?”
“Sure. That looks easy.”
As they spoke, a loud crash resonated from the kitchen, followed by an interval of heavy silence. Inez Beachy, an older woman whose head covering still had Amish strings, hurried to the front of the room and used the lull to get everyone’s attention. She said a quick prayer over the food, and at the Amen, a wave of women started ambling toward Katy and her friends.
Megan elbowed her. “Quick. Let’s head up the line.”
They grabbed pink plates, and Katy filled hers with a whoopee pie, some nuts, and a meatball.
Katy and Megan found seats near the front, where they could watch Elizabeth open her baby gifts. The party launched and was soon in full swing, with the church sisters losing themselves in the wonder of tiny, hand-knitted booties and doll-sized dresses.
“Make you want to play house?” Megan asked with a smirk. “I heard you’re dating David Miller. I miss one Sunday and when I come back, you’ve already had two dates in one week.”
“Hush!”
“You went with him to the skating party. It’s not a secret.”
“No kidding.” Katy pulled an exaggerated frown then with her next breath caught a faint whiff of something abnormal. Perhaps because of her earlier apprehension in the parking lot, she furrowed her brow and inhaled more deeply. She caught it again, only stronger. Touching Megan’s wrist, she asked, “What’s that funny smell?”
Megan sniffed. “I don’t smell anything.”
With Megan’s allergies, that came as no surprise. Before Katy could disagree, a feminine shriek filled the air, and somebody shouted, “Smoke! Kitchen fire!”
A chaos of activity followed the pronouncement. Women gasped. Chairs scraped and clattered. Aghast, Katy jumped up, too, thrusting her finger. “Look!” Small puffs of smoke wafted through the kitchen’s pass-through window. She couldn’t hear Megan’s response above the mass of feminine hysteria.
Inez flew to the front of the room, her covering strings flying behind her. The older woman clapped her hands until she had most of their attention. Her curt voice shot orders to the nervous crowd. “Everyone. Move out to the parking lot! Move orderly. But hurry!”
Now the women started to act with purpose, crowding toward the entrance, all the while casting worried glances toward the kitchen.
But Katy remained riveted, her mind scrambling for ways to help before exiting.
“What about Lil?” Megan shouted.
Snatching up her purse, Katy unclamped her lips. “There’s an exit in the kitchen. She’s closer to the door than we are.” Starting down the aisle between the rows of vacating chairs, Katy took a final glance behind her and stopped. “Elizabeth!”
Megan swung her gaze around.
The pregnant woman sat stunned, glued to her metal folding chair like a queen ruling over a sea of packages and tissue paper. Quickly running back to her, Katy urged.