Courting Cate by Leslie Gould

to yell—and Pete’s to laugh.

    Amish parents usually stayed in the shadows when a courting couple came home from a singing, but not Dat. He was smiling like a two-year-old with a lollipop, fussing over the snacks, rearranging the Ritz crackers and slices of cheese on the tray, and then pouring us glasses of lemonade, even though we each already had one.
    “Ach,” he said, standing in front of us in the living room, the full glasses in his hands. “I’ll save these for Betsy and Levi.” He started for the kitchen and then over his shoulder said, “They should be along shortly, jah?”
    “I think so,” I said, settling into Mamm’s rocking chair.
    I didn’t bother to tell him they’d left quite a while before we did. I didn’t want to think of what they might be doing, my mind picturing the unread books still sitting on Betsy’s nightstand.
    When Dat reached the doorway to the kitchen he turned back toward us, a smile on his face.
    “What is it?” I asked.
    “Oh, nothing.” He sighed. “I’m just so happy.”
    I put my hand to my face.
    “I’ll leave you two alone.” He seemed to be remembering his place. “I’ll be in the sunroom if you need me.” He left quickly.
    I picked up a cracker. “He’s . . .” I paused, at a loss for words.
    “Great,” Pete said, sitting in the chair next to me. “He’s a good man. And so young. My oldest brother is probably older than your Dat.”
    “He’s forty-two.”
    Pete laughed. “Burt’s fifty-one. My Mamm had all of us within twenty-five years,” Pete said.
    I remembered there were fourteen boys—who could forget that? “She must be worn out.”
    Pete nodded.
    “How old is she now?” I asked.
    “Seventy-two. But my father turns eighty-one this year.” Pete looked off toward the dark window. “They seem older than that, and my Dat’s health isn’t good.”
    We chatted awhile longer, landing on the topic of books.
    “Have you returned the Lincoln biography yet?”
    I answered that I hadn’t. I’d held on to it in case I wanted to compare parts of his story to his wife’s.
    He asked if he could borrow it.
    “Only if you promise not to burn it.” I intended my tone to be light. “Because if you’re going to amount to anything in life, you should start acting in a civilized manner.”
    The expression on his face, which had been happy, wilted.
    Still I pressed on. “Because that would be hard to explain to Nan. It’s probably a federal offense or something. Burning library property.”
    He froze for a moment and then stood.
    I couldn’t seem to help myself, suddenly aware of how much his lack of respect for books bothered me. “Personally, I think burning any—”
    “I’m going to ask your father if I can spend some time in the showroom, getting ready for tomorrow.”
    He’d flat out interrupted me. My face reddened. “Now?”
    He nodded.
    Had I offended him with my joke? “Dat’s in the sunroom.” I pointed toward the hall, and Pete headed that way while I gathered up our half-empty glasses.
    A few moments later, he met me in the kitchen. He opened his mouth as if to say something, maybe to apologize for being so sensitive.
    But then he closed it.
    I crossed my arms. “Do you want the book?”
    He shook his head. “I changed my mind.”
    He started for the door and then turned back around as if he’d changed his mind again.
    Dumbfounded by his behavior, I blurted out, “What’s going on?”
    “I had a question I wanted to ask you.”
    “Wanted?” Had he changed his mind again?
    “I meant want .”
    “Well?”
    He took a deep breath. “I found a place that rents kayaks,” he said. “Would you like to go on Saturday? On the Susquehanna River.”
    I was a little taken aback. Was he upset with me or not?
    “It’s perfectly safe. I’ve gone before, back in New York.”
    “That’s not my worry,” I said. Because he’d just turned defensive on me—after I thought he had a sense of humor—I wasn’t sure about