Something Old - Dianne L. Christner [89]
“You still have Lil.”
She chuckled, glad they’d lightened the tone of the conversation. “I don’t get to boss her around, but we do have some great argu—discussions.”
His laughter rang in her ears long after the car had grown quiet. Then he said, “You have a pure heart, Katy Yoder. It draws a man.”
But it was his heart Katy wanted to explore. She needed to know if they still meshed. “What do you think about the prayer covering?”
He didn’t answer directly. “If we ever married, I’d give you lots of freedom to be yourself.”
She considered the implications of the S word as she studied his moonlit face. He seemed serious.
“You wouldn’t boss me around?”
“Would you listen if I did?”
She shrugged.
He stared at her lips. “I’m finding it hard to behave.” Involuntarily, she twirled her ponytail.
He swallowed. “I’d better go.” Once he was out, he ducked his head back inside. “I’ll call.”
As she watched him go, she had to wonder if he offered a relationship with plenty of freedom because he wasn’t willing to settle down himself. If she pursued a relationship with him, even marriage, would there be more things to condone? Or worse things to forgive? Freedom was a frightening thing. Was his newfound faith in God enough to make him a faithful husband?
CHAPTER 25
Ann Byler lingered at the door, a worrisome gaze flitting over her sunny nest, and Katy sensed the other woman’s reluctance to give her elderly mother over to someone else’s care.
“Grandma Minnie will be fine with me. Take as long as you like.” Katy knew Ann needed a break, regardless of her own niggling apprehension at spending time in Jake’s home, where even in his absence, his presence permeated every corner.
Was she overly sensitive that everything about that man attracted and cautioned her at the same time? That everything about him screamed, Tread carefully?
The door closed and she braced herself. She owed Grandma Minnie. In Sunday school, it was Minnie who had instilled in her to color inside the lines. And taught her faces weren’t purple, but legs were black. Minnie had guided generations, campaigning against prideful adornment whether it be a necktie or lipstick. Normally, Katy used a lip moistener with just a touch of shine, but in case Minnie was having one of her lucid days, Katy had avoided that luxury.
No need to vex the woman in her old age. Katy couldn’t imagine the pain Minnie must have endured over the years as changes invaded their tight-knit community. It was sad, but Katy didn’t know another woman in the church who could follow in Minnie’s stead to keep the church from conforming to the world around them.
Minnie sat on the couch, staring across the room where her gaze was transfixed on a tree outside the window. Her quilting hoop lay discarded on the cushion next to her.
“Hello, Minnie.”
The woman jerked her gaze away and squinted at Katy. “Are you here for firewood? That old tree isn’t dead. Only dormant, waiting for spring.” She folded her arms. “My swing’s in that tree.”
The homestead had been Minnie’s childhood home. No wonder she was so confused now. “I’m just here to visit.”
The deeply folded face belied the childlike spirit. “Then let’s go swing.” Minnie pushed up from the couch and started toward the kitchen with amazing agility.
Scurrying after her, Katy objected. “It’s really cold outside.”
Minnie’s chin jutted up. “But I want to swing.”
Seeing there was no stopping the older woman, Katy went to the coat closet. “Put this on first.”
Thankfully, Minnie shrugged into her black, Amish shawl.
“Sit down. I’ll help you put your boots on, too.”
Minnie sat, a wide smile on her face.
Katy grabbed a pair of winter boots that appeared to be the appropriate size and knelt in front of Minnie. The action reminded her of foot washing service, and it humbled her and sent warm fuzzies up her back to serve the woman who had once served her. She untied the black oxfords and set them to the side,