Katie’s eyes widened. “That’s truly beautiful. And not at all surprising, coming from Joseph.” She forced a smile. “What else did she receive?”
Peter toyed with the celery bundle on the table. It had a Thomas-sized bite taken out of it. He glanced down the table. Each celery bundle had an identical chunk bitten out of it. “Well, Samuel gave her Cream, Buttermilk’s calf. The one she saved last year. And Thomas, not at all surprisingly, did a needlepoint of a cat for her.”
They shared an easy laugh.
“You’re so easy to be around, Peter.” She tried to stem the flow of her words, but it was pointless. There was no stopping what she was going to say. “And that you want to be around me, after the way I’ve behaved, is well, a minor miracle in itself.”
“You know I love you, Katie.”
“I know.” She studied the celery bundle Peter had abandoned. “Especially since you didn’t think twice about going off across the country to find me, not to force me back, but just to make sure I was safe. And I wasn’t safe.”
The fresh memory of their brush with Jack the Ripper hung heavy in the air.
Katie continued. “I love that you love the Amish way of life, and love that you were baptized in the Church even though our love wasn’t a sure thing.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.”
Katie looked at him with wide, doe eyes. “Wrong?”
“Our love is a sure thing, Katie girl.”
Katie tears up. “I could have been somebody in the English world. I could have taken pictures and remembered where I’ve been. I could have traveled the world. I could have—”
Peter gave her hand a squeeze. “Katie, I’ve lived that world. Everything beautiful this world has to offer—as ostentatious as the English world is, it is empty—everything beautiful is here.”
The world around them ground to a halt. “You’re here Katie, and you make life beautiful. Remember that terror you felt? That was the terror I felt when faced with living life without you.”
Katie leaned into his shoulder, in a fruitless attempt to stem the flow of tears, or at least hide them.
“I know you love me too.”
“I do. I do love you, Peter Wagler.”
Peter spoke quietly. “Say you’ll marry me Katie and live out a beautiful life with me. Content in each other and not in the fleeting ways of the world.”
One of Katie’s tears dripped onto their clasped hands.
With one finger, Peter gently tilted up her chin.
For once, she was powerless to raise her voice above a whisper. “Yes, Peter Wagler. Yes, I will marry you.” A true smile raised Katie’s lips into a bright smile, one borne from sadness, heartache, repentance, and forgiveness. And of course, true love.
Chapter Twenty
February 10, 1890, Gasthof Village, Indiana Territory
Rebekah sat outside, barefoot, while Thomas tended the passel of real kittens that Tommy the tomcat managed to bring home. Thirteen little fluff balls were being wrangled into a makeshift pen of rocks and sticks. To the tiny kittens, it was a game. To little Thomas, it was an endless source of frustration.
“Come back, Lemon, and meet my stuffed kitten Ling.”
Joseph stepped over and put his hands on Rebekah’s shoulders. “Here comes Mr. Williams’s wagon.” He waved his arm high. “Welcome, Mr. Williams!”
A little over two months of marriage and living at home with Elnora and Samuel, and of course, Thomas, had been good for Rebekah and Joseph. Soon, they would raise their own barn and Joseph was already working with Peter to build them a home, not too terribly far from her childhood home.
His beard was coming in, as married men’s do, and Rebekah felt incredibly grown up.
“How do Joseph,” Mr. Williams called over the clattering of horses hooves. “How do, Mrs. Graber.”
Rebekah blushed. She loved her new name and for the world to know that she was Joseph’s wife.
“I came to check in to check on Samuel.” He swung one leg out of the wagon, then the other. “How’s he been?”
Rebekah cocked her head, but resisted the urge to stick one of the flouncing covering strands from her black bonnet—now that she was married, she would always wear her black bonnet—into her mouth. She’d promised herself to try and break that habit and was doing well in succeeding. Mostly.
“He gets tired easy,” she said, standing up. A wiggly kitten dashed under her skirt and over her bare feet, making her giggle.
“I see.” He glanced at Joseph. “Using those leeches?”
“Regularly. Twice a day.”
He nodded and looked down. Rebekah’s heart panged. “Keep praying,” he instructed. “Just keep praying.”
“We will, for Pa and Mr. Nightwalker,” Rebekah whispered. “Ouch!” She bent and unhinged tiny kitten claws from her leg. “Who is the orange one, Thomas?”
“Orange. Come on, Sissy.” He sighed and came to retrieve his mischievous kitten. He cuddled him close when Rebekah handed him to him. “Orange,” he scolded gently, “shame on you for whipping up mischief with an empty bowl and broken spoon.”
Rebekah, Joseph, and Mr. Williams shared a quiet laugh. “Oh, I almost forgot. You received a letter, Rebekah. From New York City.”
“I hope it’s from Mrs. Cheng. She said she would send word when she was on her way to visit. She can’t wait to meet Thomas’s real kittens.”
He handed her a large envelope. She opened it and pulled out a letter.
“It’s from Father Plant!” Joseph read over her shoulder as she read aloud.
“‘Greetings,’” she read, “‘and my blessing of God’s good will upon you in your new roles of husband and wife! I picked up a newspaper and couldn’t wait to share it with you, as I’m sure you’re as happy with all of the news contained herein, not just that on the front page.’”
“Hello, Mr. Williams,” Samuel said as he joined them.
Rebekah and Joseph shared a quizzical look as she pulled out the newspaper. She handed it to Joseph. “Would you look at that! Says on the front page here that Nellie Bly succeeded in her trip, finishing her adventure January 25, 1890. Took her seventy-two days and six hours.”
“Seems Katie said she set a deadline for herself of seventy-five days, and she even beat that!” Rebekah grinned. “I can’t wait to show this to Katie.”
“He said there was more.” Joseph thumbed through the pages.
Sure enough, a few pages back, another familiar face stared back at them. Molly, from the tar-paper shack, the same woman who’d saved Katie’s life by thumping Jack the Ripper on the head with a frying pan, stood next to Father Plant on the steps of the church. She was dressed neatly and was smiling wide.
Joseph skimmed the paragraph. “She was hired as a homeless outreach liaison, and it says here that Molly Sue is considering joining a nunnery to do God’s work.”
“Here, Thomas,” Peter called as he strode up to the knot of them. “One of your little puff balls is attacking my boot!” He handed him a black ball of fur. “What’s his name?”
