Katie's Choice(19)

                “You know there’s more to life and courtin’ than that. It’s a special time to pick a life partner. Someone special you can share your life with, raise a family, carry out God’s work.”

                “I know it’s just . . .”

                Katie Rose stopped kneading the dough and gave her full attention to her nichte. “It’s just what?”

                “Nothin’,” she mumbled.

                Katie Rose let the subject drop and instead gathered up the plastic bowl of bread dough. “Help me get these into the buggy. It’s time to go to Grossmammi’s house and make pickles.”

                “That handsome Englischer will be there, too.”

                It was the one thing Katie Rose hadn’t been able to get out of her mind all morning long.



                Zane pulled off his hat and wiped his sleeve across his forehead. Oklahoma was definitely warmer than Chicago this time of year. Or maybe it was all the physical work. Walking behind a plow pulled by two sturdy horses was no joke. Evidently the part about the Amish not using tractors in the field was as valid as their aversion to electricity. Zane’s arms shook from the effort of holding the reins to guide the beasts, his shoulder ached, his legs were stiff and tired. Surely they were about to stop for a break. Snack . . . lunch . . . anything to get him out of the sun for awhile with a cool drink of water to wet his throat. But he wasn’t about to ask when they were stopping. After all of John Paul’s ribbing about him being a city boy, Zane was determined to hold his own among the men.

                Gabriel and his oldest sons had arrived shortly after breakfast, followed closely by Gideon. Before the sky was even light, they had set out to the fields. Only Abram had not joined them. John Paul explained that he had a meeting in town with a man selling seeds for a new blend of wheat. That’s what they were planting. Winter wheat he called it, which explained the crazy planting schedule. Despite the hard work everyone had put in that morning, no one else looked ready to drop.

                Zane plopped the hat back on his head, took a deep breath, and forced his feet to make one more step. Then another. He had prided himself on being strong. He had trained long and hard, toning his body for the hardships of his job. He went into countries sometimes with nothing more than the clothes on his back and what he could carry in a knapsack. That required strength of character—mind, body, and soul. In between jobs, he worked out tirelessly in the gym, lifting weights, running on the treadmill, even hitting the hiking trails in order to keep himself strong, his stamina high. But since the accident, he’d let himself slip, fighting the physical therapy, allowing himself to sit too long on the couch and wish for an assignment, a future. And look where it had gotten him: Amish country, sweating like a pig and wondering where the strength for the next step would come from.

                “Ho, now!”

                He turned as Abram came striding toward the fields. In all of Zane’s efforts to remain upright, he didn’t hear the buggy turn down the drive and the patriarch of the Fisher household return.

                Zane clicked the horses to a standstill, grateful for the excuse to rest, if only for a moment.

                Abram stopped to talk to John Paul first, then he motioned for his other sons to join them. Zane stayed where he was, not wanting to intrude on the family moment. Could it be that Abram had other news to share with them than just information on the seeds? Maybe something to do with their mother’s condition? Very possible, he thought, as he watched John Paul’s head droop. The other men stared at the soil beneath their feet as their father continued. Then as a group they approached Zane.

                “Zane Carson,” Abram said.