Home to Paradise. Barbara Cameron
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me see your license and registration, please.”
John handed him the license and leaned over to get the registration out of the glove compartment.
“Truck’s not in your name.” The officer peered at him with suspicion.
“I’m buying it from my brother.”
All he got was a grunt. “Sit tight. I’ll be right back.”
John shivered and rolled the window back up. Minutes ticked by. Long, long minutes. Was he going to jail? He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and shivered. No way was he starting the engine to turn on the heater and having the cop think he was going to make a run for it.
Make a run for it. Now he sounded like one of the shows he’d watched on the tiny television he and Sam used to have in the apartment they’d shared in town.
Another police cruiser pulled up. Oh man, he thought. Two officers? I must be in big trouble.
The officer who appeared at his driver’s side window wore a bulky jacket over the police uniform, but he saw it was a female—a familiar one.
“Hey, John,” she said, pushing up the brim of her hat so that he saw it was Kate Kraft. “How’s it going?”
“Not so well. I didn’t realize how fast I was going.”
“There’s a lot of horsepower under that hood,” she told him easily. She turned as the male officer strode up and joined them. “I know John,” she said. “He is buying the truck from his brother Sam.”
“Thanks,” the man said, handing John his identification. “I’ll let you off with a warning this time,” he told him. “Get that paperwork straightened out as fast as you can.”
“I will. Thank you, Officer.”
The man nodded and returned to his car.
“Everything okay?” she asked, studying him.
“Yeah. I thought I was in big trouble when a second officer showed up.”
“Officer Smith called me when he saw your name on your license. I’m often called in if an officer thinks he needs someone who knows Pennsylvania Dietsch.” She tilted her head. “So, speeding?”
“Yeah, I just wasn’t paying attention. The truck really moves.”
She grinned. “Faster than one of the buggy horses you used to drive, huh?”
“Yeah. Lots.”
A gust of wind tossed a flurry of snow at Kate’s jacket. “Well, I better go. Keep an eye on that speedometer. Officer Smith gives just one warning.”
“It won’t happen again.”
“Good. Okay, I’m headed home. Drive careful.”
“You, too,” he said, then wondered if he should have said it. Police officers always drove carefully, didn’t they? Since she didn’t make any comment and was walking away he decided he hadn’t offended. After rolling up the window, he started the engine, checked for traffic, and drove out onto the road.
John pulled into the drive of his family home and was careful to park to one side. No way was he giving his father an excuse to fuss if he needed to pull the buggy out the next day before John went to work. Not that his father went anywhere early, but he’d fuss anyway if he was blocked in.
He parked, locked the truck, and hurried toward the house. The wind was picking up, slapping snow into his face. He grimaced, remembering how Rose Anna had thrown snowballs at him earlier.
When he opened the door to the kitchen, he let in a blast of cold air. His mother looked up from a pot she was stirring on the stove.
“Wipe your feet.”
“I always do,” he responded as he stamped his boots on the rug before shedding his jacket and hat.
“Don’t backtalk your mudder,” his father said as he walked into the room.
John glanced over at her, and she cast him a beseeching look. Don’t argue, her look said.
“Sorry, Mom,” he said. “Something smells good.”
“Always shows up for a meal,” Amos grumbled as he took a seat at the table.
“So where’s David and Lavina?” he asked as he walked over to the stove and looked over his mother’s shoulder at the contents of the pot she was stirring.
“They’ll be home soon. They went to visit some friends.” She glanced at the kitchen window. “Snow’s really starting to come down.”
“So what were you doing having a snowball fight with a maedel?” Amos demanded, his bushy black eyebrows drawn together in a frown. “Aren’t you a little old for such childishness?”
“She started it,” John told him. He endured his father’s steely gaze and shrugged. “We were just playing around.”
“What if the bishop had been passing by?”
“He doesn’t need to be bothering people having a little fun.”
“Now you’re telling the bishop his job?”
John felt his temper rising. “Look, can we drop it?”
“Sounds like home,” David said as he strolled into the room.
“Your bruder here—” Amos began and then abruptly stopped when he saw Lavina walk in with her boppli in her arms. He jumped up and crossed the room to take his grosssohn from her so she could shed her coat.
“He fell asleep on the way home,” Lavina told him. “I’m going to take him upstairs and put him in his crib for a nap.”
Amos frowned. “I was hoping to spend some time with him.”
She smiled. “He won’t sleep long. I promise you’ll have a visit with him before he goes to bed tonight.” She carefully lifted Mark from his arms and went upstairs.
“He likes Mark because he can’t talk back yet,” John muttered to David as he took a seat next to him.
“I heard that.” Amos sat at the table again.
“John, could you go down to the basement and get me two jars of green beans?”
“Happy to.”
Relieved to get away from his father, John went on the mission even though the basement was cold. He grabbed the flashlight kept at the top of the stairs and walked up and down the rows of shelves until he came upon the Mason jars of green beans canned during the harvest. With them tucked in one arm he went back upstairs and found Amos engaged in a conversation with Lavina.
“Here you go,” he told his mother and put the jars on the kitchen counter next to the stove.
And that’s when he saw green beans warming in a pot on top of it. “What do you call that?” he asked quietly, pointing to the pot with steam rising from it.
“Keeping the peace,” she said, smiling. “Supper’s ready!”
Feeling chastened, he took his seat at the table.
***
Rose Anna sang along with the congregation during the long worship service. She glanced around the room, absorbing the peace, wanting to carry it with her until the next service.
It was so wunderbaar to be with friends and family and celebrate their faith.
The trouble was she found her attention wandering as the minister spoke. She couldn’t help remembering her childish behavior earlier in the week.
She couldn’t do something like lose her temper and do something so impulsive like pelt John with snowballs the next time she saw him. What if someone had seen her the other day? But she couldn’t