Plain Promise Page 13

  But Kade finished drying the plate. “Where does it go?”

  “Top shelf of the cupboard.” Sadie pointed upward to the cabinet on the wall in between them. He edged closer to her, pulled the door open, and put the plate away. He smelled good. Like cologne she smelled on the Englisch men in town. Unease settled over her again.

  Tyler ate most of his beef stew. Sadie was hoping both Tyler and Kade had forgotten about the tapioca pudding and that they would be on their way soon.

  “Thanks for having us for dinner, Sadie. When I asked if we could stay, I didn’t necessarily mean you had to cook for us.” He smiled his crooked smile, the one that always showed a kinder side of him. “But that stew was fabulous.”

  “Danki.” Sadie glanced at Tyler in hopes that Kade would go join the boy at the kitchen table and not stand so close to her.

  “My mom didn’t cook a lot when I was growing up. But every once in a while she’d take over the kitchen from Nelda, and when she did, she’d always cook a roast or stew.” Sadie turned to face him as she dried her hands. He was far away, his eyes reflective of times past. “Your stew reminded me of those times when my mother cooked.” He paused and looked toward Tyler. “They were good times.”

  “Was Nelda your servant?” Sadie couldn’t imagine such a life. Kade grinned. “Servant might be a strong word. She was our cook, and she also handled parties that my parents hosted, things like that. And she oversaw the other staff—my nanny, the housekeeper, and the yard guy.”

  Sadie didn’t understand. “Then what did your mother do?” Right away, she realized the shock in her voice. “I mean . . . I, uh, didn’t mean to be disrespectful. I just—”

  Kade chuckled. “It’s all right. I know what you meant. And, believe it or not, she stayed really busy. She was involved in a lot of charity events, played tennis twice a week, hosted a literary club once a month, and spent a lot of time traveling with my father.”

  “Oh,” Sadie said.

  “It must sound like a shallow way to live to you.” Kade cringed a bit.

  “Ach, no. I would never judge.” She recalled Lillian’s comments about that very thing, and then added, “I’m sure your mamm is a gut woman.” But how fulfilling could a life like that be? Sadie wondered. Some of her most gratifying moments had been serving Ben his meals, taking care of their home, and growing her own vegetables. And she continued to dream of the day she could mother children of her own.

  “Maybe we could have our tapioca pudding in the den where it’s warmer? I noticed you trembling.” Kade walked to the kitchen table.

  Sadie didn’t move for a moment. She knew that her trembling had nothing to do with being cold.

  “Tyler, let’s put your letters in the lunch box and take them into the den,” Kade said. Tyler looked like a fit might be coming, but he allowed Kade to move him into the den.

  “I’ll be in with the pudding shortly.” She pulled the container from the refrigerator and filled three bowls.

  “Do you have all these people in your home in the city?” she asked when she handed Kade and Tyler each a bowl of pudding. “What?”

  “These nannies, cooks, and other servants.” She didn’t wait for an answer, but went to go retrieve her own bowl. Then she took a seat in the rocker across from the couch where Kade and Tyler sat.

  “I do have people who live in my home and help with things. I work a lot,” Kade said.

  “Will these people take care of Tyler when you return home?” “I suppose so,” Kade said after he finished a spoonful of pudding. Then he shook his head, as if something had suddenly angered him. “My so-called friend Val is supposedly checking into someone to care for Tyler.”

  “This man is no longer your friend, no?”

  “No,” Kade huffed. “But let’s not talk about that. Tell me about you. Parents? Brothers and sisters?”

  “Mei parents have both passed. Mei mamm when I was young, and mei daed died a few years back. I have one sister who lives in Ohio.” “My father died when I was nineteen.”

  Sadie waited for him to mention his mother and whether or not he had brothers and sisters, but he took another bite of pudding. Tyler was starting to get restless, Sadie noticed. He handed Kade his empty bowl and began to bang his head against the back of the couch.

  “I guess he’s getting tired,” Kade said.

  Sadie stood from the rocker. “I’ll take those.” She reached for Kade’s bowl as he took the last bite, and then she grabbed Tyler’s empty bowl from the coffee table.

  They’ll be leaving now, she thought as she headed to the kitchen. She washed the bowls and put them in the rack to dry.

  She rounded the corner back to the den, prepared to help Kade bundle Tyler up so that they could be on their way, although it didn’t appear they were going anywhere. Tyler’s head was in his father’s lap.

  “He must be really tired,” Kade said. “Usually he makes it until eight o’clock.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s only seven.”

  Sadie slowly backed her way into the rocker.

  Tyler’s eyes closed, and Kade leaned back against the couch, giving Sadie the strangest look. “You’re nervous to be around me, aren’t you?”

  “What?” She fought the tremble in her voice.

  “I mean, I know you’re worried that someone will find out that we spent time together, but I also think I make you nervous in general.” He paused and tilted his head to one side. “Why is that?”

  Sadie sat up straighter. “I assure you, Kade, I am not nervous.” He was arrogant, but intuitive as well.

  He eased Tyler’s head off of his lap, and then he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and folded his hands together. “Sadie, I appreciate you letting us stay.”

  Yes, well . . . now it is time to go.

  “And I think I know why you’re nervous,” he went on.

  “I’m not nervous, Kade,” she said again with a shrug.

  “Sadie, I just want to talk to you. Actually, there is something specific I want to talk to you about.” He paused and took a deep breath. “I’m not here to come on to you or anything like that. I’m not going to try to kiss you or—”

  She jumped up. “You need to leave, Kade.”

  “Whoa.” He held his palms toward her. “I’m sorry. I just thought you’d like to know that I have no interest in anything but friendship.”

  “Of course I know that,” she snapped in a whisper. “But we don’t talk of such things.”

  He grinned. “Okay, I won’t say the word kiss.” He emphasized the last word.

  Sadie put her hands on her hips. “Are you making fun of me?”

  His face grew somber. “No. I would never do that. I respect you more than probably any woman I’ve ever met. Really. You’re not like the women I know. And I apologize again. Can we please sit here and talk for a while? I’ll put another log on the fire, and maybe we can have a cup of coffee and talk. There really is something I’d like to talk to you about—something Tyler said to me.”

  Sadie sat back down. She needed to sit down. The conversation had taken a turn that was not fit, but even more bothersome was that Kade said he had no interest in her outside of friendship. Suddenly she wanted to ask him, “Why not?” It was a fleeting thought, but it had popped into her head for reasons she didn’t understand. She opened her mouth to tell him that he must leave.

  Kade spoke first, though. “Do you believe that God can talk to us through other people? Tyler quoted a Bible verse to me yesterday, and it gave me chills.” He shook his head. “It was so perfect for what I was feeling at the time, that I can’t stop thinking about what he said, and—”

  Sadie had unconsciously put her hand over her mouth.

  “Are you okay?” Kade asked.

  She dropped her hand to her lap and nodded. “Go on,” she said as she thought about whether or not she would tell Kade that Tyler had also quoted a scripture to her earlier, at a most appropriate time.

  “The funny thing is,” K
ade said, “I haven’t been on very friendly terms with God lately. I’ve been distant from any kind of relationship with Him for several years. My faith, or lack thereof, was one of the reasons I came here. Sort of.” He shrugged. “Anyway, does that make sense? Have you ever heard of anything like this happening?”

  Sadie smiled. “As a matter of fact, I have.”

  And for the first time since she’d met Kade Saunders, Sadie didn’t feel nervous. She stood from the rocker. “Why don’t I go make us some coffee?”

  11

  KADE ADDED ANOTHER LOG TO THE FIRE WHILE SADIE prepared coffee in the kitchen. The fresh-brewed aroma permeated the house, complementing the comfort of Sadie’s home. He felt surprisingly at ease here, despite the austere decor and lack of electricity.

  Tyler slept soundly on the couch, only his eyes and nose visible under the quilt Sadie had spread over him. Kade was glad he wasn’t spending the evening alone at the cottage while Tyler slept. He was anxious to know more about Sadie. Her simplistic life intrigued him, but so did the woman herself. Kade suspected that, despite her nervousness around him, Sadie was more complex than she appeared.

  He was tempted to excuse himself, go out on the porch, and make an overdue phone call to Val, but that would only solidify what he already knew to be true. Plus it was too cold to venture outside for anything more than another log for the fire.

  “Here you go,” Sadie said when she walked into the den, holding two cups of coffee.

  “Thanks.” Kade accepted the coffee and took a seat in one of the two rockers across from the couch. Sadie sat down in the other chair, and then sipped from her cup. For a few moments, he couldn’t pull his gaze from her.

  Sadie’s blue eyes twinkled in the dim light, but Kade recognized the hints of sadness beneath her radiant glow. He’d seen those eyes in the mirror—the look of loneliness. Her ivory skin, void of any makeup, was flawless, and her lips had retained their youthful color. Loose strands of wavy, red hair wisped against her cheeks from underneath the cap on her head.

  The women Kade knew spent a fortune in professional services to render a look that came naturally to Sadie. And she wasn’t even trying to be beautiful. He’d never wanted more to tell a woman how lovely she was than at this moment, but she looked up, and her eyes met Kade’s. He knew he would alienate her if he voiced his thoughts, probably even win an escort to the door.

  “So, about my question,” he began instead. “Has anything like what I described, the thing with Tyler, ever happened to you? It left me feeling . . . strange.”

  Sadie took another sip of her coffee. She seemed more relaxed, he thought. “Ya, today.”

  Then she smiled, broadly. So much so that Kade wanted to smile back at her, but he had questions, so many questions. “What do you mean, today?”

  She crossed her legs beneath a dark-blue dress and black apron. Only black leather shoes and socks of the same color were visible. “I had the same thing happen to me today.” She pushed the rocker into motion with her foot and seemed to be challenging him to question her further.

  “Today?” Kade twisted his mouth to one side and narrowed his eyes. “Today someone quoted a scripture to you?”

  “Ya.” She pushed back a strand of hair. “And, like you, it happened at a time when I most needed to be reminded of God’s love for us.”

  “Really? So, this scripture that someone read—”

  “It wasn’t someone, Kade,” she interrupted. Her eyes met his in a way that made Kade anxious. Something big was coming. “It was Tyler.”

  It had been a long time since Kade had felt a jolt like the one Sadie had just given him. “What?”

  “I think you heard me.” Her tone was strong, but her eyes soft. “I had just said a prayer about . . . about something important to me. Tyler read a scripture that seemed to be speaking directly to me.”

  Kade could feel the wrinkles on his forehead deepening as he narrowed his eyes in her direction. “Well, these have to be coincidences, right?”

  “What do you think?” She raised her brows, challenging him to give this some extra thought.

  “I told you, I’ve rather strayed from my faith for the last few years. It’s hard for me to imagine it as anything more than a coincidence.” He paused, shrugged. “But if the same thing happened to you, maybe it’s plausible.” Then he paused again. “No. No, I don’t believe that’s how God works. Tyler read something and simply repeated it.”

  “Then why are you so bothered by it?”

  He shook his head in defeat. “I don’t know.”

  “Who are we to judge how God works His miracles?” Sadie’s glow dimmed. “And who are we to question His will?”

  “I guess I question it sometimes.”

  She took a deep breath. “In my community, we believe that all things are of God’s will and are not to be questioned.”

  “Well, that’s impossible.” He took a sip of his coffee. “When your husband died at such a young age, was that God’s will?”

  Crud. Why did he have to go and blurt that out? Her eyes glazed over almost instantly. “Oh, Sadie. I’m sorry. I should have never—”

  “It’s all right.” She rapidly blinked away any sign of tears. “At a time of mourning, I think it’s only human to question God’s will for a short time. I grieved for my husband, and it was harder for me to see God’s goodness during those first few hours.”

  “Hours? What about months? Years? I haven’t been able to see His goodness for three years, since we found out that Tyler . . . that Tyler was autistic.”

  “He is a perfect little boy, Kade,” she said with such conviction that Kade wanted to believe her.

  He kicked his rocker into sync with her rocker and stared at the fire, filled with recollections of Tyler’s birth, how proud he’d been, and how he believed Tyler to be the perfect boy. And then, all his hopes and dreams were ripped from him two years later. “He’ll never, you know, be anything.” He turned and looked hard at Sadie. “Please, Sadie, don’t get me wrong. I love my son, and I always will. But for me to accept his autism as God’s will—well, I can’t do that. He’ll never play baseball or any other sports. And that’s okay. I’m not a huge sports fan anyway. But he’ll never do any of the things other kids can do—like ride a bicycle, for example, or climb a tree, or—”

  “How do you know these things?”

  “He can barely stay focused on anything for more than a few minutes, and he’s uncoordinated.” He adjusted his sharp tone. “He’ll never know what it’s like to be in love, or how much I love him, for that matter.”

  “How do you know?”

  Kade shook his head. The woman was beginning to frustrate him. “Because I just know.”

  Sadie could see the pain in his expression. She thought for a moment about how to help Kade to see things in a different perspective.

  “Kade, he’ll also never know about murder and crime, or other baremlich things that plague the world. And Tyler will always be pleased by the simplest of things in life, like a bowl of tapioca pudding. He’ll never suffer grief as we know it, mourn a dear pet’s departure, or question a friend’s betrayal. Tyler will rejoice in the gut moments that he can understand, but not lose himself in the bad moments, like so many of us do.”

  When Kade continued to stare at her but didn’t say anything, she went on. “Kade, if you can believe that all things are of His will, a calm will sweep over you and bring a peacefulness that only comes from God’s love.”

  Sadie felt the sting of her own words, knowing she hadn’t been living by what she told Kade. She pulled her eyes from his gaze and sighed.

  “Do you really believe that?” He sounded so skeptical. How was she going to make Kade understand when her own ugly doubts were flailing about?

  But she sat up taller and confidently said, “Ya, I really do believe that.” And I will stop having doubts.

  “I have to admit,” Kade began cautiously, “when Tyler quoted that passage from the Bible to me, a
t that moment I felt the presence of God, and I think I might have had a glimpse of the peacefulness you’re talking about.” He paused and rubbed his chin. “And for you to have had a similar experience with Tyler—I don’t know. It puts a whole new spin on this.”

  They both sat quietly for a few minutes and stared at the crackling fire as orange embers drifted upward and out of sight. Sadie could hear the thrashing wind beating against the house, and she could feel the cold air sneaking in around the windowpane behind her.

  She was glad the conversation had quieted. Kade and she were unequally yoked, and it wasn’t her job to minister to him. But no sooner had the thought registered when she realized that by ministering to Kade, she’d been ministering to herself as well.

  “It’s something to think about,” Kade finally said. Then he cocked his head slightly. “How do you do it? Live here?” His voice was tender as he motioned his hand around the room. “Like this?”

  “It’s the only life I’ve ever known. I don’t need all the material things and conveniences you have in your world.”

  “But aren’t you curious about what you might be missing?” Kade asked. “For example, I know you enjoy listening to music, but yet you don’t own a radio. Wouldn’t you like to experience the things in our world?”

  This was exactly what her parents had warned her about. She could recall her father’s words. “To be unequally yoked with nonbelievers will tempt you to stray from our ways and our beliefs,” he’d said when she was young.

  “I have experienced as much as I need to in your world,” she said firmly. “When an Amish teenager turns sixteen, we begin our rumschpringe—a running-around period which lasts until we choose to be baptized into the faith or leave the Old Order. During this time, we do many of the things Englisch teenagers do. Go to the movies, ride around in cars, visit the shopping malls. Things like that.”