The Choice (5 page)

“Truth be told, some people don’t like the Crazy Quilt so much,” Yonnie said, gently smoothing her weathered hand across the tiny stitches. “It’s usually made of scrap cloth. But for some reason it’s one of my favorites. Daniel’s too.” She paused to take a breath.

“Thank you, Yonnie. I will always treasure it.” Carrie’s life felt like a Crazy Quilt right now, long before the pieces were brought together into a pattern. Would they ever?

Carrie looked in the mirror one last time, took a deep breath, and followed Yonnie down the stairs to go marry Daniel Miller.

All of the furniture in the front room had been moved out for the wedding to allow room for seating. The traditional celery-filled vases had been placed around the house, and a mountain of food had been prepared by the ladies in the church. As Carrie stood beside Daniel in front of the bishop, her name was forever changed from Carrie Weaver to Carrie Miller.

The wedding lasted the entire afternoon and evening. Two meals were served for over three hundred people. Emma was happiest at weddings, Carrie thought, watching her move from table to table like a bumblebee over a field of flowers.

Carrie and Daniel were seated for meals at the Eck, the corner table reserved for the bride and groom. She noticed that her school friends seemed childish and silly compared to Daniel. Many of them hadn’t been baptized yet and were still in the throes of their Rumspringa, sampling temptations that the world had to offer before renouncing worldly pleasures for good. All but Mattie, Carrie realized, watching her as she talked to Andy. Mattie never seemed to need a Rumspringa to know who she was. She was born knowing. She was like the hymn sung at the wedding ceremony, always sung in the same, sure way.

Later that night, after the last buggy pulled out of the gravel driveway and the last dish had been washed and put away, Carrie went upstairs to get ready for bed. She felt all trembly and shaky too, as if she’d been sipping on Esther’s sweet rhubarb wine. Her stomach felt like a knotted fist. This was the moment that she had been dreading, ever since she had agreed to marry Daniel. She reviewed in her mind all of the reasons she had married Daniel—that she needed a home for her and Andy, that her father had approved of Daniel and hoped for this union. In a far corner of her heart, she knew this was the right thing to do. But she had dreamed about her wedding for years now, and the man in her dreams who would be knocking on her door should have been Solomon Riehl.

She gazed out the window at the sliver of a new moon. Not a moment later, Daniel knocked at the door. Carrie cleared her throat. “C-come in,” she said.

Daniel came inside and closed the door behind him, hand on the doorknob. He stood there for a moment, looking at her, his expression unfathomable. She wondered if he could tell that she was shaking, though he was across the room. It seemed to her as if he was in the middle of deciding something. Then the moment passed. He walked over to the bed and grabbed a pillow and Yonnie’s quilt. As he spread out the quilt on the floor, he said, “Seems best to wait. I’ll sleep here.”

Carrie didn’t know how to respond. “Daniel, I mean to be a good wife to you,” she finally said, lifting her chin bravely.

He nodded. “We can wait. Till you’re ready.” He took his vest and shirt off and hung them on a peg on the wall. Then, as comfortable as if he had been doing this every night of his life and she wasn’t even in the room, he took off his shoes and pants, stripped down to his longjohns, and stretched out on the floor, pulling the quilt over him. “Night,” he said.

Arms crossed, Carrie remained at the window, hugely relieved. She listened as Daniel’s breathing settled into the even rhythm of sleep. She realized how little she knew about Daniel Miller, this man she had married. She didn’t even know how old he was, or what his birthday was, or his favorite meal, or how or when his mother had passed. She didn’t even know he would be so kind.

3

A few days after Carrie and Daniel’s wedding, a group of men arrived at the Millers’ newly purchased property early in the morning to get to work on the house. There was a lot of work to do, undoing modern conveniences to make it suitable. They disconnected the electricity, unhooked telephone jacks from the wall, lugged out a washing machine and an electric dryer, pulled screens off the windows.

About midmorning Carrie went outside to get some fresh air. She spread old quilts over the pieces of plywood resting on sawhorses that would serve as makeshift tables. Then she set out jars of coleslaw, bean salad, and applesauce that she and Emma had canned last summer. She spotted a big boulder on the lawn, soaking up the sun, so she went over to it and sat down, resting a minute.

Carrie leaned back on her elbows, grateful for the sun’s warmth on her face. She looked up at the big house, at the white clapboard siding and the green shutters with little cut-out pine trees, at the stone foundation the house rested on. It was fancier than the simple Amish farmhouses she was used to. A pretty house, to be sure, but would it ever be a home to her? Would she ever learn to be content in this life she chose? She felt so strange inside. Sad and lonely and missing the life she thought she would have.

A small red car without a top on it suddenly swerved onto the circular gravel driveway and parked by the front door. Out hopped a young woman, talking to herself. She had an odd black clothespin attached to her ear. She didn’t notice Carrie as she hurried to the door. She pressed the doorbell, glanced at her wristwatch, then pressed the doorbell again.

Carrie watched the stranger for a while, amused by the woman’s growing irritation. She had red hair, long and sleek, held back by a dark band around her head. Her white shirt hugged her body, with the shortest skirt and the longest legs Carrie had ever seen. The heels on her shoes were so tall that Carrie wondered how she could walk on them without tipping over.

Finally, the stranger turned around impatiently, scanning the yard, and noticed Carrie. “Miss? Oh miss?” She waved. “Your doorbell doesn’t work.”

“No. I guess it doesn’t.” Carrie got to her feet, dusted off her apron, and went over to finish setting the table for lunch.

“Are you the homeowner?” she asked, hurrying over to Carrie. Carrie looked up at the big house. “Yes, I suppose I am.”

Relief smoothed out her face. “Good! My name is Veronica McCall. Here’s my business card.”

The woman was very pretty, Carrie thought. She had creamy white skin, even features, but her green eyes . . . they had a sharpness to them, like the glint of a frozen pond reflecting a winter sky.

Carrie took the business card, read it, then slipped it into her apron pocket. “Hello, Veronica McCall.” She gave her a nod and started to put cups at each place setting.

She trotted behind Carrie. “And you are . . . ?”

“I’m Carrie Miller.” It sounded strange to her tongue to stick Miller after her name.

“Well, Carrie, if you don’t mind giving me a few minutes of your time, I’d like to discuss purchasing your property.”

Carrie laid out forks and plates at each spot. “Thank you, Veronica McCall, but this property is not for sale.”

Veronica McCall was not easily dissuaded. “I can guarantee a profit for you.”

Carrie smiled and shook her head. She had forgotten napkins, so she turned to head back into the kitchen just as Davy Zook, Mattie’s brother, burst outside, holding a big metal box.

Veronica McCall stared at him as he hoisted the box in the wagon. “Is that a microwave?”

“Would you like it?” Carrie asked her. “We have no use for it.” She looked mystified.

“You’re welcome to anything in that wagon, Veronica Mc-Call.”

Her eyes were locked on the wagon’s contents: an electric stove, two window air conditioners, a room heater, electric wall lamps. “Are you moving out? Or in?”

“Moving in. Fixing the house up. Soon, they’ll be pulling down the walls inside to make it so we can fit a large gathering for Sunday meetings.” The confused expression on her face amused Carrie. “Are you new to our county, Veronica McCall?”

She shook her head as if trying to remember why she was here. “Yes. I just moved here from San Francisco.”

“Earthquake country.”

“Well, yes, but I’d take an earthquake any day over these lightning and thunderstorms.” She scanned the skies for any threatening clouds, frowning.

“It would take a leap of faith for me to live in earthquake country,” Carrie answered. Suddenly, she smiled. She was trying to decide on a name for her new home but hadn’t settled on any. Maybe she should call it Leap of Faith Farm. Or better still: Blind Leap of Faith Farm. That’s exactly what it felt like. Like she was taking a gigantic leap of faith. With her eyes closed shut.

Veronica McCall laughed. “I hope we can become friends, Carrie.”

Carrie thought she saw a glimmer of sincerity behind those cold, glittering green eyes. But maybe not.

“Anyway, as you can see on the business card—”

Carrie patted her apron pocket.

“—I’m in business development for my corporation. We’re very interested in acquiring property we can convert into a golf course. Finding land around here is nearly impossible. Yours has ideal topography.” She paused for a moment, looking out across to the even rows of trees in the orchards.

“The slopes help to minimize frost damage to the apples,” Carrie said. She had heard her father tell Eli that very thing.

Veronica ignored her. “It’s possible that the house could be converted to a clubhouse, and that area there”—she made a sweeping gesture with her hand—“could be torn down and used for parking. Really, it’s perfect. We’re hoping we won’t even need double fairways.” She turned to Carrie. “Safety can be a factor with double fairways, you know.”

Carrie didn’t understand her words, or the meaning behind them, so she answered with silence.

“Of course, we have to get rid of that old carriage house and that barn. So many rickety old barns in this area.” She made a clucking sound.

“There’s a saying in the Plain life: ‘A farm is not a farm without its barn,’ ” Carrie said.

Veronica opened her mouth to say something, then snapped it shut and tilted her head at Carrie, puzzled.

“The Amish build their barns first. When the farm is successful, a good house follows. To the Amish, a barn is more important than a house.”

Veronica shook that thought off, then resumed her sales pitch. “And this property holds excellent proximity to Honor Mansion, which is really why I’m here.” She spun around to face Carrie. “The hotel was recently bought by my corporation, Bonnatt’s Development Company. First, we have plans for a major renovation on the mansion. You know, day spa, tennis courts, and then, a golf course.” She flashed a brilliant smile, revealing white, even teeth. “So, Carrie, how much would you like for it?”

Carrie admired this woman’s tenacity, but she had work to do. “Thank you, but as I said, it’s not for sale.”

Veronica sighed. “Is there anyone else whom I could speak to?”

“You could talk to Eli Miller. He’s just coming up from the barn now.” Eli, Daniel, and a few other men were walking toward them from the barn. They had been examining where to put the blacksmithing shop that they planned as a sideline business. Apples alone weren’t enough to pay the bills.

“Which one is he?” Veronica asked. “They all look alike! Blue shirts, black trousers with suspenders, straw hats—”

“He’s the only one with whiskers. Only married men wear whiskers. The bachelors are clean shaven.” Daniel’s jawline just showed the shadow of a new beard.

She squinted her eyes. “The one who looks like he’s got a shoehorn wrapped around his chin?”

“That’s Eli.”

“So a beard takes the place of a wedding ring?”

She nearly surprised a smile out of Carrie, the way this woman talked. Carrie nodded.

“Thank you, Carrie!” Veronica called out, as she hurried toward Eli.

Carrie couldn’t resist a grin when she saw how quickly Eli shooed Veronica McCall off. They all stood and watched as she zoomed away in her little car. Her red hair flew behind her like a flag waving in the wind.

“Englisch,” Eli muttered, shaking his head as he passed by Carrie to head into the house.