Her Amish Suitor's Secret Page 6

  Rose exhaled loudly. “Listen, I’m not going to lock the door during the day—with everything else I have to do, I can’t be bothered to keep track of a key, too. I don’t even know if Nancy has a key. But I will start locking up at night while we’re sleeping, and I’ll ask the meed to do the same.”

  They hadn’t been locking their house at night while they were inside asleep? Caleb shivered. “Denki. That will help put my mind at ease.”

  But the conversation actually heightened his anxiety. As soon as he got back to his cabin, he closed the windows and door and called Ryan to report what Hope and Charity had told him. “If the thief really is hanging around nearby and he decides to come back here, I’m concerned things could get dangerous.”

  “I wouldn’t give a teenager’s gossip much credence. Remember the kinds of stories that used to circulate when we were kids?” Ryan countered. “Think about it—why would the thief send me a note indicating the coins are at the camp if he was going to come back and collect them himself?”

  Caleb rubbed the sweat from his forehead and looked at his hand absentmindedly before rubbing it on his trousers. “Maybe it wasn’t the thief who wrote the note. It could have been an accomplice who got cold feet or who turned on his partner.”

  There was a weighted silence before Ryan replied. “I still think it’s just gossip, but I wouldn’t want to put you in harm’s way. If you’re uncomfortable, you should leave.”

  Caleb could hear the heaviness in Ryan’s voice; he didn’t want to let him down. And now Caleb had another concern to consider: If he left, who would keep an eye out for Rose and the twins? Even if Rose thought they were in danger, she probably wouldn’t go to the police, so there was no chance she’d go now, when she scoffed at the suggestion she needed to be careful. At least if Caleb stayed here, he could monitor the situation. “I can’t leave yet. It’s too soon,” he told his brother. And I’m already in too deep.

  Chapter Four

  Because Monday was wash day and Rose used her spare time in between making breakfast and lunch to go to town with Caleb, she wasn’t able to go berry picking until the afternoon. Kneeling between the long rows of strawberry plants, she had a clear view of the main road, and she was pleased to see how frequently cars either stopped to make purchases or at least slowed down to survey the shelves of fruits and vegetables in the little three-sided shed. It occurred to her that the roadside sign simply said Produce, so she’d need to make another one for drivers to know she was selling pies, as well as fruits and vegetables.

  She was thinking about how she wanted the sign to read when someone honked a horn. Glancing up, Rose noticed a tall, slender woman had pulled over by the produce stand. She was leaning into her car’s open window and pressing the horn with one hand while waving at Rose with another. When Rose waved back, the woman gestured for her to come to the car. Ach. What did she want? The produce stand operated on an honor system, with customers putting their money in the plastic mayonnaise jar used as a till and taking out what was due back to them. Rose hoped the woman wasn’t going to ask her to make change for a big bill, because she didn’t want to take the time away from picking berries to run back to the house. Rose would rather the woman take the produce now and come back with the money another day.

  But the woman apparently wasn’t interested in buying anything. “I’m looking for Serenity Lake Cabins,” she said. The woman wore bright lipstick and brilliant diamond earrings. Rose never understood the appeal of either; she imagined lipstick felt greasy, like after you’d eaten fried chicken, and that the earrings pinched one’s earlobes. Then she caught sight of herself in the woman’s dark sunglasses and thought, I suppose you might wonder how I can stand to have dirt beneath my fingernails. She straightened her kerchief.

  “The cabins are down there,” she said, pointing to the dirt driveway. “I’m managing the camp. What can I do for you?”

  The woman grinned; except for a smear of fuchsia across her front tooth, her smile was as white as Caleb’s. “I’m Julia, the one who called on Saturday to inquire about a vacancy.”

  Rose remembered. “Right, but as I told you, we’re full for the season.”

  “I know,” the woman replied. “But I hope to stay here next year and I was passing through on my way back to Portland. So I thought I could take a peek at the accommodations.”

  “I’m sorry, but the cabins are occupied and we can’t disturb our guests,” Rose said. Besides, I don’t have the time to show you around.

  Julia pouted. “Really? I couldn’t find any information about the camp on the internet, and I don’t really want to rent sight unseen.”

  “I understand, but—”

  “I won’t disturb anyone, I promise. It’s just that this is the only time I’ll be in the area this summer so I made a point of stopping by. And I’m glad I did because I want to buy some of this amazing-looking produce before I leave...”

  Rose understood what Julia was implying: if Rose let her have her way, the woman would make a purchase. “I suppose I could show you around the grounds,” she compromised. “I can’t let you inside any of the cabins, but I can give you a pamphlet describing them.”

  “Denki,” the woman said, her pronunciation making it sound like donkey, and Rose had to suppress a snicker. “Is it close enough to walk or should we go in my car?”

  It would have been quicker to get into the woman’s car to drive the quarter of a mile to the camp, but as Rose glanced down at her skirt, she realized it was stained with dirt and strawberry juice, and she probably smelled from perspiring in the afternoon sun. Furthermore, while it was permissible for the Amish to accept a ride from Englischers, Rose felt self-conscious about riding in the car such a short distance—it seemed lazy. What would the guests think if they saw her?

  “It’s just down the driveway. We can walk,” Rose said, so the woman grabbed a hat with a big floppy brim from the passenger seat, rolled up the window and pressed her keys to lock the car doors. Unfortunately, Rose noticed too late she was wearing sandals with very high heels and she could take only slow, mincing steps down the uneven dirt lane.

  Julia was going to have to purchase a lot of produce to make up for the time Rose was wasting. Immediately, she felt a stitch of remorse at the thought. Her aunt and uncle expected her to be courteous to all guests, and Rose imagined that included future guests, too. She slowed her gait so Julia could keep up.

  When they finally made it to the main house, Rose dashed inside and returned with a pamphlet, which she extended to the woman, who had taken a seat in the glider.

  “How many cabins are there?” she asked. “I’ve counted nine.”

  “Eight—it’s all in the pamphlet. We don’t rent out that little one. It’s the one our groundskeeper stays in.” She pointed toward Caleb’s cabin.

  “Are boats allowed on the lake?”

  “We have canoes and rowboats for guests to use, or they can bring their own kayaks. Motorboats are prohibited anywhere on the lake.”

  “I’d love to see the waterfront,” the woman hinted.

  Why? You can see the lake as plain as day from here, Rose thought, her patience wearing thin. The “waterfront” was just a little patch of sand. Just then she noticed Caleb rounding the corner and she was suddenly inspired. “I’ll ask Caleb to give you a quick tour,” she said, waving him over to join them.

  * * *

  Caleb hopped up the porch steps. “Hello,” he said. “Gut news,” he told Rose. “I fixed the canoe and it’s dry enough to put in the water.” He expected her to be pleased; instead, she winced.

  “Caleb, this is Julia,” she said. From the angle he’d approached, he hadn’t noticed the woman sitting on the other side of where Rose was standing. “She’s considering renting a cabin next year.”

  Caleb immediately understood why Rose had pulled a face. He shouldn’t have mentioned the canoe was damaged i
n front of a potential customer. With a nod to Julia, he said, “If you do, you’ll enjoy your stay. It’s very peaceful here. And Rose’s cooking is delicious.” Although, I can’t imagine someone who dresses like you do would like the “rustic charm” of this place. Doesn’t look like you eat much, either.

  “Rose said you’d give me a tour of the waterfront,” the woman replied.

  Rose interjected apologetically, “I know you’re busy, but I left a flat of strawberries unattended in the field. I’m afraid the chipmunks will go after them.”

  A tour of the waterfront? It was no bigger than a child’s sandbox and he had a to-do list a mile long. Still, Caleb was flattered Rose entrusted him with the task. Besides, how could he resist her imploring amber eyes? “Sure,” he agreed. “I can show Julia the beach. Not that it’s very big, but it does provide an unobstructed view of the lake.”

  Rose’s grateful expression was worth the time it took Caleb to accompany Julia down to the lake. Surveying it, Julia peppered him with questions about the hiking trails in the hills encircling the water, how many houses were built on the lake and whether the public had access to it, too. Although he was relieved he’d learned enough about the area to accurately field her questions, Caleb felt conspicuous when Julia remarked, “If you don’t mind me saying so, for an Amish person you actually sound like you have a Midwestern accent, you know that?”

  “Is that so?” Caleb pivoted to walk toward the main house so Julia couldn’t see his face, which he was sure was glowing with embarrassment.

  As she painstakingly made her way up the incline, she asked, “So, how long have you and your wife owned this camp?”

  “My wife? You mean Rose?” he questioned. “She’s not my wife.”

  The woman stopped in her tracks. “You live with her? I didn’t think the Amish allow—”

  “They don’t,” he said emphatically before she could complete her thought. Then he realized he should have said “we don’t,” since he was supposed to be one of the Amish. Fortunately, the woman was so chatty she didn’t seem to notice his error.

  “Oh, sorry. I thought this was a family business, so I assumed she was your wife. Is she your sister?”

  Caleb felt conflicted about answering. On one hand, he understood in the Englisch world her question wouldn’t be considered intrusive. On the other hand, he knew the Amish kept their private lives private—especially from Englischers. “No, she’s not my sister,” he said simply. “I have to get back to work now, so we should keep walking.”

  “Oh! Of course,” the woman agreed gamely and continued up the hill. “You go do whatever it is you need to do. I can find my way back to my car myself.”

  “I need to speak to Rose, so I’m headed that way, too,” Caleb said, and, within minutes, he wished he hadn’t. He could have completed three or four tasks on his list in the time it took Julia to practically tiptoe down the dirt road. Her shoes were completely inappropriate for the uneven surface and when she stumbled, Caleb instinctively held out his arm for her to steady herself. She latched on and didn’t let go until they arrived at the car.

  “Thanks for the tour,” she said as she took her hat off and tossed it onto the passenger seat. Flipping her long blond hair over her shoulder, she gave him a once-over and remarked, “I hope I get to see you next summer.”

  Caleb recognized the sultriness in her tone. He had only been living as an Amish man for a week, and already he was appalled by how brazen the Englisch woman seemed to him compared to...to Rose. He eagerly trod across the field to where she was picking strawberries.

  “Sorry about mentioning the damaged canoe in front of a potential customer,” he said. “But I think she’ll end up renting a cabin next year anyway. She seemed to really like it here.”

  “Jah, I noticed. You seemed to like her being here, too,” Rose retorted without looking up.

  Once again, Caleb had thought Rose would be pleased with his efforts, and when she appeared annoyed instead, he began to lose patience. “What, exactly, do you mean by that?”

  “I mean you were walking arm in arm with her!” She snapped a rotten strawberry from its stem, briefly inspected it and then chucked it over her shoulder.

  She’s jealous! The thought gave Caleb a strange twinge of delight.

  Then Rose lectured, “I don’t know how your district does things in Wisconsin, but here in Serenity Ridge, we don’t make a public show of hugging strangers—especially not when they’re Englisch!”

  Caleb’s cheeks smarted from the chagrin of realizing how mistaken he’d been to think Rose was jealous. She didn’t envy Julia for holding his arm; she was angry at Caleb for acting in a way that was considered to be disgraceful. Although his first impulse was to argue he hadn’t done anything inappropriate, Caleb’s anthropology background helped him consider the situation from Rose’s perspective. After all, he was supposed to be Amish, and no Amish man he’d ever met would have allowed an Englisch woman to clasp his arm like that. It was no wonder Rose was disgusted.

  “I wasn’t embracing her,” he said calmly. “She kept stumbling so I gave her my arm for balance. I thought it was the courteous thing to do for a customer.”

  “We don’t need customers that badly,” she said, shielding her eyes as she squinted up at him. “What would our guests think if they saw the two of you coming up the driveway like that? It would give them the wrong impression.”

  “You’re right,” Caleb admitted. “But I was genuinely afraid she’d twist her ankle or trip and hurt herself. You have no idea how litigious some people can be—”

  “Litigious? What does that mean?”

  Caleb realized the more he tried to wiggle out of this, the more Englisch he seemed. “It refers to someone who likes to bring lawsuits against someone else. I was concerned if she got hurt she might try to sue your ant and onkel. Try to take away their home and lakeside property. She’d say it was negligence because the road was too bumpy.”

  “Pah,” Rose uttered. She relaxed visibly, sitting back on her heels. “She was the one wearing impractical footwear so she couldn’t blame my ant and onkel for something that wasn’t their fault. I doubt anyone would make an unfair accusation like that.”

  That’s because you don’t know the Englisch like I do. With thoughts of Ryan running through his mind, Caleb replied sorrowfully, “It happens more often than you think.”

  * * *

  As Rose looked into Caleb’s forlorn eyes in the silence that followed, she regretted having been so angry at him. No, not just angry. When she’d seen him walking with Julia, she felt as if she’d bitten into an unripe strawberry. What was that bitter emotion—jealousy? That was narrish. She was not envious of the attention Caleb paid to any woman, especially an Englischer. An Englischer who, by the way, took up both of their time yet ended up not buying any produce!

  While Rose still didn’t think it was right of him to allow the woman to wrap her arm through his, she knew she could have brought up the subject in a more tactful way. After all, she appreciated that he had done her a favor by giving Julia the tour, and she told him so. “I shouldn’t have asked you to do something that was my responsibility, but I appreciate that you did and you did it so cheerfully. It allowed me to get back to berry picking so I could start on the pies as soon as possible,” she said. “The season peaked early this year, and it’s just about over now. I need every berry I can get.”

  “I was hallich to help.” Caleb crouched down beside her and ran his palms over the tops of the strawberry plants. “Looks like you’ve almost picked the patch clean.”

  “Almost, but not quite. I still have to pick all of those rows over there by Wednesday, since it’s supposed to rain on Thursday and Friday. The berries always taste washed-out after a hard rain, and if I wait until Saturday they’ll be overly ripe,” she said.

  “I could help you,” Caleb offered.

 
“Denki, but it’s my endeavor.” And I’ve learned it’s best to manage my business by myself.

  “I don’t want any part of the proceeds, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “That’s not it. Still, it wouldn’t be fair to accept your help and not share the profit with you. Picking berries for pies I’m going to sell goes above and beyond what’s expected of you as an employee.”

  “What if I just want to help you as a friend?” Caleb plucked a fat berry from its stem, dropped it into the tray and looked back at her. His eyes were so blue.

  I’m parched, she thought, suddenly woozy. It must be the sun. Rose dipped her chin and reached for a berry. “Denki, but—”

  “But you’d rather not make as much money as you can?” he ribbed her. “If it makes you feel better, you can owe me a favor in return.”

  “All right, it’s a deal,” Rose finally conceded. The truth was that she really could use his help, and she was starting to not mind his company, either.

  * * *

  Caleb wasn’t sure why he insisted on helping Rose other than being grateful she wasn’t holding a grudge against him for his blunder with Julia. Few women he’d ever been in a relationship with had demonstrated that kind of grace before. Not that he was in a relationship with Rose, but he was glad she didn’t dismiss his notion they were friends, as well as coworkers.

  He started picking at the beginning of the row next to her, and he worked so fast he quickly caught up to where she was, so that they were kneeling side by side. As they worked, she told him she was going to make a new sign advertising the pies.

  “I saw some paint and a stack of plywood in the barn. You could use that,” he suggested. “I’ll pull it out for you after supper.”

  “Denki,” she said, stopping to lift a berry to her mouth. She bit into it and closed her eyes, the juice dripping from her fingers. “Mmm, that’s gut. I was really thirsty,” she said. “Is it this hot in the summer in Wisconsin?”