The Amish Seamstress (29 page)

I nodded. He was right. In Zed's case, where there was a will, there was a way. Then again, he was a genius and a perfectionist when it came to his films.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I don't mean to get all riled up. I just have this thing about….mediocrity. Settling. What were Dr. Stutzman's words? ‘We did the best we could with what we had'? Good grief, if we all felt that way, then all we'd be producing is a bunch of junk.”

“Isn't that his right, though?” I pressed. “Just as it's your right to be so picky when it comes to your own movies?”

He brushed his bangs from his forehead and exhaled slowly. “Maybe.
But the problem is that one bad film, one poorly produced piece of schlock like that, can make us all look bad.”

I didn't reply, unsure of what to say. Mostly, I was just embarrassed at my inexperience, that I didn't even know it
was
schlock.

Turning my head toward the window, I watched fields of corn stubble poking through the slush and leftover snow flash by as the afternoon light waned.

“Izzy, I…” His voice softened and broke off. I looked back at him, but he kept his gaze on the road, his arm muscles visibly tensing beneath the fabric of his sleeves. “I know I shouldn't be this worked up. It's not just the stupid movie. It's…” His voice trailed off for a moment. “It's what Shelly said. I feel really bad about that. I have no idea what got into her, but I promise you, I'm going to have a word with her later.”

“Please don't. Please. That'll only make it worse.” Not to mention, that would mean the two of them spending more time together, time hashing out whatever had led her to say such a mean thing in the first place.

Since leaving the film, I had been trying to forget her words—to forgive her for them, even—but the memory still hovered at the back of my mind like an angry hornet.

“It's okay—”

“It's not okay,” Zed said, cutting me off. He lifted his hand from the steering wheel, as if to place it over my own, but then he seemed to think better of it and clutched the wheel again. I pretended not to notice.

“Well, I don't want you to do anything about it, Zed, but I do appreciate your saying that.”

We drove in silence for a while. I willed him to lift his hand again, to reach over and pull mine close, but that didn't happen. I decided to change the subject.

“It's a shame you have to work tonight. Maybe you can come over after work tomorrow?”

“Doubt it. I have a lot of studying I need to do.”

“Oh.”

“Sorry.” Zed took his eyes off the road for a moment and smiled at me, apparently trying to soften his response.

“I understand,” I answered, keeping my voice light. “It's just that I'll
be heading home next week, and I hoped to see you as much as possible before I go.”

“Home? Already?” He gripped the steering wheel harder than before.

“
Ya
. Rosalee is right on schedule with her rehab. The physical therapist wants her using the walker as much as possible. At first I thought it was too soon, but she's been doing great. Ella told me just this morning that I'd be free to go in a few days, and because Thanksgiving is next Thursday, they were thinking I could take the bus Tuesday, which will get me home on Wednesday in time to help
Mamm
with the cooking and cleaning.”

“That's right.” Zed ran his free hand through his hair. “Thanksgiving's next week. Man. Time flies.”

“
Ya
.” I laughed.

He smiled, a little sheepishly.

“You're coming home too, aren't you?” I asked. He looked confused, so I added, “Real home. Lancaster County, I mean.”

“Oh.”

“Because I was thinking, if you are, maybe I won't have to ride the bus.” I shifted toward him. So much for waiting on him to come up with the idea. “I could ride with you instead. It would make the trip easier for both of us.”

He rested an arm on the door handle. “The thing is, I don't think I can afford the gas.”

“Oh,” I said. “Well…I can split it with you. Or even put what my bus ticket would have cost toward the trip.”

He shook his head. “It's not just that. My car keeps making that weird sound. I don't know what I'll do if it gives out before I can save up enough to get it fixed or buy another one.”

I sank back against the seat. I'd so looked forward to all that time with him in the car, not to mention having him around town for several days back home.

“Sorry,” he said again, his voice sympathetic.

“At least I'll see you at Christmas. Right?”

“Definitely. I'll be finished with finals by the middle of December. I'll get home then no matter what, though I may have to leave my car at Ella's and catch a ride with another student.”

I imagined him being with someone else for twelve hours—Shelly, for example. She probably owned a car, a really nice one that didn't make funny noises. My stomach lurched. I didn't want to know if she had a car or what kind. Nor did I want to know if she actually had designs on Zed, as I suspected. Why torment myself?

As he slowed to make the turn onto the lane, I felt even more uncertain about our future. At least we would always be friends. Then again, if he ended up marrying someone like Shelly, someone who would want to keep us away from each other, then at most I'd be part of his past. The thought made me angry.

The truth was, I didn't want to be a fond memory or even a good friend. I wanted to be his wife, but with the way things were going, all I'd ever be was his old Amish buddy from back home. I shuddered at the thought.

“Cold?” Zed asked as he took the curve by the bakery.

I shook my head, swallowing back my tears.

As he came to a stop at the house, he said, “I don't have time to come in. I hope I'll see you before you leave, but if not, have a great trip.”

I nodded, cringing at the thought of him bumping me on the shoulder with his fist as he'd done before.

He didn't, thank goodness. I couldn't have taken it right now, the ultimate buddy move.

“Don't look so sad, Iz. We'll see each other in December.”

“
Ya
.
Danke
, for everything.”

He grinned and I tried to smile back, fumbling for the door handle and then finally finding it.

“Bye,” we both said at the same time, although his sounded like his mind was already on the next thing, and mine sounded like a bird dying.

As soon as I got out of the car and closed the door, he backed it around and drove away. I watched until he took the curve by the bakery again, and then I trudged on up to the house, wishing it didn't hurt so bad to love someone who obviously didn't love me back.

S
IXTEEN

S
aturday morning Rosalee maneuvered around the house using the walker. After our noon meal, as she and I settled in the living room, she said, “I do believe that by the time Ella's baby arrives, I'll be able to do the cooking and dishes. Maybe even work in the bakery some.” That was a couple of months away. Three months was a good amount of time for her recovery, so she
was
right on schedule.

We'd both started on our handwork and were busily working away when Ella called out my name, a measure of alarm in her voice.

Rosalee and I exchanged a concerned glance, and then I jumped up to hurry to the kitchen. “Are you all right?” Saturdays were Ella's busiest day of the week, and I knew she wouldn't have left the bakery at this hour without good reason.

She stood in the mudroom, hanging up her cape. “It's my grandmother, Frannie,” she said. “Mom called and said that
Mammi
is in the hospital. She's had another stroke.”

“Oh, no!”

We heard Rosalee's concerned voice from the living room, asking, “Ella? Izzy? Is everything all right?”

Ella and I went to join her.

“It's Ella's grandmother,” I said to Rosalee. “Frannie Lantz. She's had a stroke.”

“Oh, poor Frannie.” Rosalee sank back against the couch. “How bad is it?”

“Mom said she can still talk, but her left side is weak and nearly unusable.” Ella glanced at me. “She asked for you.”

“For me?” My heart fell.

“Yeah. Mom wants to make sure you're going home next week as planned. They would like for you to be
Mammi
's caregiver once she gets out of the hospital. You could start the Monday after Thanksgiving.”

I swallowed hard.

“What about your aunt Klara?” I asked. “Can't she take care of Frannie?”

“When
Mammi
had the stroke, she fell and Klara hurt her back trying to help her. Her doctor said she can't lift a thing for the next month.”

“Oh,” was all I could manage to say.

“Thank goodness your recovery is going so well,” Ella said to Rosalee.

The older woman nodded as she reached for me. “I know you'll be a blessing to Frannie too,” she said, squeezing my hand.

I felt horrible about it, but taking care of a dying Frannie Lantz was the last thing on earth I wanted to do. My face must have indicated my feelings, considering what Ella asked next.

“What's the problem, Izzy?”

I pulled my hand away from Rosalee. “Let me think about it,” I said, feeling clammy all over. I didn't want to be with Frannie when she died, but I couldn't say that to Ella. She wouldn't understand.

“I should probably talk to my parents…”

“Sure,” Ella said. “Use the phone in the bakery anytime you want.”

But it wasn't my parents I needed to talk with. Not at all. It was Zed. He was the one who helped me see things clearly.

“Let me know your decision as soon as possible so I can call Mom.” Ella headed toward the kitchen and I followed. I assumed she needed to get back to the bakery, but instead she told me she was running to the store and asked if I needed anything.

“The store?” I was startled by the abrupt change. Wasn't she upset? If
it were
my
grandmother who had just had a stroke, shopping would be last thing I would be doing. Then again, Ella was a far more practical person than I.

“My supply shipment doesn't come until Tuesday, but I'm nearly out of cinnamon and cornstarch. Luke's going to watch the bakery while Penny takes me.” She retrieved her cape and pulled it on, but I could tell she didn't really want to go.

“I could go for you,” I said, seeing an opportunity.

“Would you?”

“That way I can pick up some snacks for the trip home,” I said, feeling a little guilty about the plan that was developing in my head. I thought Penny would be game to help me. It wouldn't hurt to ask.

A half hour later, Penny and I headed down the lane, away from the bakery.

“Any chance we could go to the grocery store in Goshen instead of the one in Nappanee?” I asked.

She glanced at me. “Why?”

My face grew warm and I couldn't manage to say the spiel I'd prepared. We reached the main road, and she came to a complete stop. “Would this have anything to do with a certain young man?”

I nodded.

“Well, in that case…” She turned her blinker on to the right instead of the left and pulled out. “I'm happy to accommodate you. I always enjoy visiting grocery stores—and colleges.”

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“No problem.” As she drove, Penny chatted away, avoiding the subject of me and Zed and focusing on Ella and Luke and the bakery instead.

We stopped at the store first, and I quickly found Ella's cinnamon and cornstarch, and then I chose a couple of oranges and a box of crackers for myself for the trip home. I knew there was some leftover meat from last night's roast back at the Home Place, so I decided I would use that to make a sandwich in the morning, and take a couple of their apples too.