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Change of Heart
By Molly Jebber KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
Copyright © 2015 Molly Jebber
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4201-3762-0
CHAPTER 1
Massillon, Ohio, 1899
Becca Yost sighed, as David Garber's face flooded her mind. She pictured herself standing in front of their friends and family as he told her he couldn't marry her three weeks ago on her wedding day. A memory she would like to forget. Time away from home was a good idea. Besides, a visit to her sister was long overdue.
Her neighbors had made the long ride from home to Massillon, Ohio, an enjoyable one. What a relief. The Eblings hadn't mentioned David.
The buggy stopped, and Becca bid the couple farewell. The hot sun warmed her cheeks, and the sky was cloudless. Hoisting her bag over her shoulder, she headed downtown. The Ohio-Erie Canal sparkled in the sunlight. Passengers stepped into a boat at the dock. Maybe she would take a boat ride while she was here. On the corner, a peddler and an older man with a weathered face bartered over a handcrafted wooden cane. She smoothed her plain dress and righted her black kapp as she eyed three pretty women who wore colorful dresses with lace trim. What would it be like to wear a printed dress? She mustn't let her mind go there.
A newspaper boy stepped in front of her. "Do you want to buy a paper, miss?"
She shook her head. Maybe she should buy one. No, her parents wouldn't like it and neither would the bishop.
She reached First Street and peeked in the window of Ned's Milliner's Shop. Hats decorated with colorful ribbons and bows lined the shelves. She pressed her nose to the glass of a dress shop. White petticoats hung on a rack. Calico dresses caught her eye. Did Ruth wear these types of dresses? As she passed Myrtle's Bakery, she breathed in the aroma of fresh bread drifting in the air. No wonder Ruth loved living here. The colors, smells, and sounds were all so exciting, compared to her life in Berlin, Ohio, where men and women wore plain clothes and refused to have anything to do with world news or modern conveniences.
Becca held the old letter Ruth had sent months ago with her handwritten map on it. She grinned. Memories flooded her mind. She had missed their late-night talks. What a great idea she and her sister had had to sew a pocket on a quilt and tuck a meaningful letter inside before giving it to a loved one. Ruth wrote she'd had trouble retaining keepsake pocket quilts in stock. How many heartfelt letters had been tucked inside pocket quilts and given to loved ones? No matter. It was a blessing that family, friends, and now strangers who bought them would pass keepsake pocket quilts on to their loved ones for years to come.
The huckster bartered with a patron over a walking s stick and raised his voice. She winced and crossed the street. She read her map. Should she have let Ruth know she was coming? No. Surprising her sister was more fun. As she passed the post office, she found North Street. According to Ruth's map, she should turn here.
In the street, a boy cracked a whip with a loud snap. She jerked and tripped on a big stick and fell. "Ouch!" Her mind went blank for a few moments. She blinked a few times and recovered. A slender, tall man stood before her.
"Dr. Matt Carrington. Are you hurt?" He offered his hand.
She blushed and gripped his fingers, as she struggled to stand. "I'm Becca Yost." She patted the dust off her dress. "I'm not hurt, but I'm quite embarrassed."
He snapped his fingers, and his deep green eyes widened. "You are Ruth Smith's sister. Her late husband, Caleb, and I were friends. They told me about you. I am stunned at how much you look like Ruth. Are you sure you are all right?"
"Yes. I'm fine." He was kind and polite. They did look alike, but Ruth didn't have an ugly red birthmark the size of a small apple on top of her right hand like Becca did.
"Wait here a moment, and I will be right back."
Dr. Carrington walked over to the boy and jerked the whip out of his hand. "This is no place for you to play with a whip." He pointed at Becca. "Come with me. You are going to apologize to Miss Yost for Your bad behavior."
Dr. Carrington and the boy reached her. "This is Roy Wallace. He has something he would like to say to You." He nudged the boy's arm.
Roy removed his hat. "I am sorry for scaring You."
Seeing how cute he was, with his curly black hair and big brown eyes, she choked back a desperate laugh and gently tapped his nose. "You frightened me with Your whip, but I accept Your apology."
Roy gripped his suspenders and shuffled his feet. "May I go, Dr. Carrington?"
"Yes, but You behave Yourself. I do not want to hear this whip crack again, do You understand me?"
"Yes, sir."
He handed the whip back to Roy and pointed to the general store. "Your father is loading his buck wagon, and I suggest You join him."
The boy scampered across the street. "Roy is nine, and he is always into mischief. He and his parents are patients of mine. Are You here to visit Ruth?"
"Yes. My visit's a surprise."
"She will be delighted." He wrinkled his forehead and pointed to her sleeve. "You're bleeding."
She touched her arm. Wet, she pushed her sleeve up and gasped. A cut oozed with blood.
He lifted a stick stained red. "You must have landed on this." He dropped the stick to the ground, pulled out a clean handkerchief from his shirt pocket, and handed the crisp cloth to her. "Press this on the cut to slow the bleeding. Come with me to my office next door. Let me bandage Your arm. Then I will show You where Ruth lives." He lifted her bag from the ground and slung it over his shoulder.
Becca followed him. Yes, she remembered Dr. Carrington. Ruth had written to her in one of her letters about him. She'd described him as nice, caring, and smart. She'd left out the word handsome.
He opened the door. "The exam room is on the right."
She glimpsed inside a room on her way down the narrow hall. A handcrafted oak desk caught her eye. Neat piles of paper were stacked on top. Nice office. In a separate room, she scooted onto an exam table. No patients sat in the waiting room, and a nurse hadn't joined them. "Do You have a nurse who works with You?"
He dropped her bag onto a chair. "No. I wish I did. I put the word out, but no one has responded."
She cleared her throat. She was alone with a man. But he was a doctor and a friend of Ruth's. Should she leave?
"Ruth is a nice lady. Caleb and I met for coffee every Friday morning in my office. I sat with them on Sunday mornings in church. Caleb and I fished at least once a week. I have not dipped a pole in the water since his death. It is not the same without him. He was a good friend."
Becca stared at her lap. Had Caleb explained to Dr. Carrington why she and her parents had not visited Ruth? Would he ask her why she chose to visit her today? Please don't.
He pulled saline, ointment, and bandages from a cabinet, and then he tended to her wound. "Much to Your relief, I am sure, You do not need stitches. Are You in any pain?"
She shook her head. Dr. Carrington had been a perfect gentleman. "I'm a little sore, but I'm fine otherwise. I'll find Ruth's house. I don't want to take You away from Your work."
"This is my day off. I came in to clear my desk and order supplies. It is no bother to take You to Ruth's house, and I have done enough work for today. Are You allergic to any medications or foods?"
"I'm not aware of any."
Dr. Carrington removed a small bottle from a cabinet, shook out two pills, and handed them to Becca. "This medicine should help relieve Your soreness." He poured her a glass of water and passed it to her.
She noticed his hands. Callous free, and his nails didn't have one speck of dirt underneath. She swallowed the pills, passed the glass back to him, and scooted off the table. "Is there somewhere I can change my clothes? My dress is ripped, dust covered, and stained with blood."
"You can change in this room. There is a washbasin, a pitcher of water, and clean towels on the table in the corner." He walked out and shut the door.
She washed her face and hands and then pulled a clean dress out of her bag. After she had finished changing her clothes, she went to his office.
He carried her bag and ushered her outside. "Ruth's house is not far."
She winced as two men lifted a sheet of metal from a spring wagon and struggled not to drop it. She and Dr. Carrington waited to let them pass. "How did Massillon grow to this size?"
Dr. Carrington walked alongside her. "The railroad and canal played a part in helping the town grow. Massillon has thrived because of the wheat, steel, glass, and metal industries. In 1845, the Russell brothers built a threshing machine. Their invention won them first prize at the Ohio State Fair. The two men we passed are sons of the two inventors. They opened their metal company a month ago. My father is friends with the Russells." He chuckled and rubbed his chin. "This tidbit of information is one of my father's favorite stories to share."
She could've listened to him talk about Massillon all day. His enthusiasm for the city was infectious. Ruth sent letters about the latest fashions, but not about new inventions, history, or world news. These things were interesting. The next time a paperboy offered her a newspaper, she'd buy one.
He stopped and pointed. "This is Ruth's house. Have I bored You? I get carried away talking about the history of this place."
"No. I enjoyed our conversation. Would You like to come in and say hello to Ruth?"
He shook his head. "You and Ruth have a lot to talk about. I would be in the way. Are You staying long?"
Her stomach clenched. She accepted her bag from him. She didn't want to ever leave Ruth again. No one laughed at her jokes, lifted her spirits, or understood her like Ruth. She would have to return to her life in Berlin in a few weeks. Her sister's empty bed beside hers came to mind. Her heart stung. She would make this decision later. "I'm not sure yet." She blocked her eyes from the sun. "You've been kind, and I appreciate all Your help today."
"I enjoyed Your company. Visit my office in a few days, and I will check Your arm. I want to make sure Your wound does not get infected. Please give my best wishes to Ruth."
She had never been alone with a man, except for her daed. Dr. Carrington had soon put her at ease with his calm voice, kind words, and polite manners. She could understand why Caleb and Ruth had such nice things to say about him. "I'll do both."
He walked away.
She liked his crisp white shirt, creased black pants, and shiny boots. His neat appearance matched the way he kept his office.
After he left, she turned to Ruth's white house. A high-backed rocking chair sat on the porch. Red and yellow tulips and deep blue hyacinths planted in a pot scented the air. Her heart raced as she ran up the steps and knocked on the door.
Ruth appeared and yelped. "What a wonderful surprise to find You on my doorstep!"
Becca embraced her. "I've missed You so much." Her eyes swept Ruth from head to toe. Two years older, her sister hadn't changed a bit in the three years they had been apart. Aside from her birthmark, she and Ruth were mirror images of each other with their narrow waists, light blond hair, and blue eyes. "What a sight You are. Your printed blue dress is beautiful, and I like Your hair in ringlets tied back. I'm used to my hair being in a bun."
"You are as sweet as ever. I made the dress, and I like wearing my hair in ringlets the best. I have missed You. Come in." She ushered her into the kitchen. "Have a seat." She poured Becca a glass of water and sat across from her. "I have not received a letter from You since before Your wedding. Where is Your husband?"
She heaved a big sigh. "Three weeks ago, on our wedding day, and in front of our parents and friends, David Garber told me he couldn't marry me. First, I was stunned, then angry, then sad. My emotions ran together all at once. We hardly knew each other, but I had agreed to go along with Amish tradition and have Daed choose my husband. I was relieved and disappointed at the same time not knowing if David and I would be happy together or not."
Ruth brought her hand to her mouth. "Did he explain why he would not marry You?"
"He had visited his uncle in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, for two months before the wedding. While he stayed there, he met a woman who cared for his uncle's sick wife. She cooked and joined them for dinner every day. During those times, he grew fond of her."
"Why did he wait until Your wedding day to tell You about this woman?"
Becca removed her shoes. "Because he had arranged with Daed to marry me, and he didn't want to dishonor me or our parents by going back on his word. When the time came for him to say his vows, he knew he couldn't go through with the marriage. This other woman meant too much to him."
A picture of David formed in her mind. She considered him attractive with his medium height, slightly overweight frame, brown hair, and green eyes. She had looked forward to learning more about him after their wedding day. No longer. Now distrustful and thoughtless came to mind. At least David had been honest with her though.
She sighed. "In the end, he did me a favor."
Ruth crinkled her nose. "What a terrible spot he put You in. Did he leave right away? What did You do?"
"He left in a hurry. I cried, and our parents and Grace comforted me. She is truly a best friend. She stood by my side most of the day. Friends had cooked chicken, potatoes, green beans, and pies for the after-wedding meal. I appreciated all their hard work, but I wasn't hungry. Not wanting to hurt their feelings, I nibbled on the food. I left early, and I walked to my favorite maple tree by the neighbors' pond to pray and ponder what to do with my life. I'm twenty and an old maid."
"You are not an old maid. I have faith You will either meet someone or Father will find the right man for You to marry when the time is right. In the meantime, I am thrilled You chose to come to me for comfort."
Becca hugged herself. It was as if she and Ruth hadn't spent time apart. Ruth had changed her life, but not her heart. "I'm ready to put the unfortunate day behind me. Grace understood this, but our parents and my other friends didn't. They wouldn't stop offering sympathy. I needed time out of town for a while, and visiting You came to mind." Becca touched a dishtowel. No doubt, the rose on the fabric was her sister's handiwork. Ruth had taught her a similar pattern when they were Younger. In the corner, a handcrafted maple cabinet stood tall. She ran her hand along the arm of the chair. The etched detailing matched the table where she and Ruth sat. Her sister's house was cozy.
"You may stay as long as You like." Ruth rose and placed two large pots of water on the hot stove.
Becca lifted a picture of Ruth and Caleb from a shelf. The smiling couple sat close. "When You left Your Amish life behind to marry Caleb, we mourned the loss of You for a long time."
"You did not mention this in any of Your letters."
"I didn't want to upset You. When I told Mamm and Daed Caleb had a heart attack and died, they asked me if You were coming home. When I told them You weren't, they cried. I explained You had built a life in Massillon and had Your mending shop to manage. They asked me not to speak about You because hearing about You hurt them too much."
She had missed Ruth's stories at mealtime and playing games with her on family night. She and her parents rarely played games anymore. The absence of her sister's laughter and excitement ruined the fun. "I'm grateful our parents allowed me to write to You. They didn't want me to come to Your house, but they understood how painful it's been for me not to visit You. Mamm and Daed were ready to let me do anything to lighten my dark mood. Shunning our friends who choose to leave our community isn't a rule I agree with."
"I do not either, but Amish law is not going to change according to my circumstances. I miss our parents, and I pray for them every day. I will always be grateful for my Amish upbringing, but I have no desire to go back to Berlin. I have grown roots here, and I cannot imagine living anywhere else."
Life without Caleb for the last year mustn't have been easy for her sister, but Ruth had never once complained. "Do You struggle to make a living here?"
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Change of Heart by Molly Jebber. Copyright © 2015 Molly Jebber. Excerpted by permission of KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP..
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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