Katy's Debate (Katy Lambright Series, The) Page 2

  When they reached the front doors of the school, Bryce sent a smile over his shoulder. “’Bye, Katy. See you tomorrow morning at Bible study, right?”

  Katy nodded. She enjoyed meeting with the Christian students at Salina High North for a time of Bible study and fellowship before school on Wednesdays.

  Bryce’s grin grew. “And be ready to stomp Paul and Marlys in that practice debate after school.”

  “Yeah, right!” Paul punched Bryce’s shoulder and Marlys snickered, giving Katy a head-to-toes-and-up-again look that stirred Katy’s irritation.

  “I’ll be ready,” Katy vowed. Vengeful thoughts weren’t encouraged by her Mennonite fellowship, but she couldn’t deny hoping she and Bryce would beat Marlys and Paul.

  Cold air smacked her bare legs as she headed toward the bus, which waited at the curb to transport students who stayed late for various activities. The temperature had dropped twenty degrees since Thanksgiving a week earlier, but so far no sign of snow. She shivered, envious of Marlys’s and Vicki’s warm denim jeans. Maybe she’d start wearing tights instead of her anklets even though the tights made her look like an old woman.

  A car horn blared, and she spun toward the sound. Dad’s pickup sat in the parking lot. She pulled her coat snug across her chest and dashed to the pickup. The warm air from the heater engulfed her as she climbed into the cab, and she let out a contented sigh. “Oooh, that feels good…” She shot Dad a smile. “How come you’re in town?”

  Dad seldom picked her up from school. Their dairy farm outside of the little town of Schellberg was twelve miles from Salina. Dad didn’t have time to take her back and forth to school. He had told her when she was given approval by the elders to attend public high school—the only student from her town ever to continue past ninth grade—that she’d have to ride the bus. She enjoyed those rare occasions when Dad drove her home instead of having to bounce down the highway in the noisy, crowded school bus.

  Dad aimed the truck toward the street. “I needed to go to Wal-Mart for oil and a filter for the truck. I thought you might need some things too.”

  Katy couldn’t think of anything she needed, except maybe a book on Looney Tunes characters. She wanted to look up the Tasmanian Devil. But she wouldn’t tell Dad that.

  “All I need is your signature,” she said. She explained the upcoming debate trip and her chance to substitute for Vicki.

  Dad listened attentively. When she finished sharing the details, he nodded. “That will be fine, Katy-girl. I’ll sign it when we get home.”

  Katy grinned. “Thanks, Dad!” Dad circled the large Wal-Mart parking lot, seeking a spot close to the door. She gave him a hopeful look. “Can I pick up one of those cook-it-at-home pizzas from the deli? It’ll be suppertime already when we get home.”

  Dad pulled his lips to the side, his expression dubious.

  “They’re not as good as Aunt Rebecca’s homemade pizzas, but they’re not bad. I’ve had them at Shelby’s house before. And it’ll be a really quick thing to fix so you can get to milking the cows.” Katy knew the cows would grow uncomfortable if the milking was delayed. Dad took good care of his dairy herd—he wouldn’t want to leave them waiting for long.

  “We won’t need the pizza, Katy. Supper’s…” Pink filled Dad’s cheeks.

  Dread gnawed at the edges of Katy’s mind. Dad only blushed over one thing. Or one person. “Supper’s what?” She held her breath.

  “Taken care of.” Dad slid out of the truck without looking at Katy. “Mrs. Graber is bringing out a casserole and eating with us tonight.”

  Chapter Two

  Katy’s breath whooshed out. “Not her again…” She hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

  Dad scowled. “Katy…” He slammed his truck door and headed toward the store.

  She’d already blurted her thoughts. She might as well continue. Scrambling out of the truck, she caught up to Dad and trotted alongside him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. But why is she bringing us supper? That’s the third time since she came to visit Gramma Ruthie and Grampa Ben. Does she think I don’t know how to cook?”

  Dad released a snort of laughter. “Of course she doesn’t question your ability to cook, Katy. She’s just trying to be helpful.”

  Was Dad defending Mrs. Graber? She stepped into his path and folded her arms over her chest to keep from shivering. “She’s been with Gramma and Grampa for a whole month now. Isn’t she about ready to go home?”

  Dad’s scowl deepened. He tugged the brim of his ball cap lower on his forehead. “Her schedule isn’t your concern, Katy. Your grandparents have told her she can stay for as long as she wants to.” He put his fist on his hip. “And to be perfectly honest, I’m tired of you making her feel unwelcome.”

  Katy gawked at her dad. “I haven’t done anything to her!” Dad’s eyebrows rose. So did Katy’s irritation. “Well, I haven’t.”

  “No, but you sure haven’t done anything to make her feel like she’s part of our community.”

  She isn’t part of our community. She just showed up, uninvited. Katy knew her thoughts weren’t quite true. Gramma Ruthie had invited Mrs. Graber to come to Schellberg. And Katy knew why. She just didn’t like the reason why.

  Dad pointed at Katy. “When she comes over this evening, I expect you to be polite and friendly.” He bobbed his head toward the double doors of the store. “Let’s get in out of the cold.”

  Katy didn’t move. “I don’t need anything. I’m going back to the truck.”

  Dad shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He strode off without her.

  Katy let out a loud huff. Her breath hung in a little cloud in front of her face for a moment and then disappeared. She wished Mrs. Graber would disappear the same way. She stomped to the truck and slammed herself inside the cab.

  She loved Gramma Ruthie with a fierce love. Gramma was the only mother Katy had ever known—her real mom had chosen to leave the Mennonite faith when Katy was four years old and had died in a car accident four years later. Katy couldn’t love Gramma more if she tried. But lately Katy had been plenty frustrated with her grandmother.

  From the very day Rosemary Graber arrived in Schellberg, Gramma had pushed Mrs. Graber and Dad at each other. Katy didn’t dislike Mrs. Graber—she was a nice woman. But Gramma shouldn’t play matchmaker. Especially not with a woman from another community. Katy’s mother had come from Iowa to marry Dad, and she hadn’t stayed. What if Mrs. Graber decided she didn’t like Schellberg, either? How would Dad handle losing yet another wife? And how would Katy handle losing another mother?

  Katy glared out the window, watching for Dad. “As if we need Mrs. Graber coming over and cooking for us and acting all sweet and helpful…” Her breath steamed the window, and she swished the moisture away with her hand. It was cold in the truck. She wished Dad would hurry up.

  Settling back into the seat, she hugged herself. Her stomach growled, and she hugged herself harder. No matter how wonderful Mrs. Graber’s casserole looked, she wouldn’t eat much. No sense in giving that smiley, capable woman any encouragement. Katy huffed again. Why couldn’t Dad see that he and Katy were just fine on their own?

  Guilt fell over her just like a damp sheet. He’s courting her because of me. A few weeks ago Katy had gotten into trouble at school, and Dad had relied on Gramma Ruthie’s help to deal with the problem. She heard his voice in her head—a comment he hadn’t meant for her to hear: “Katy needs a mother.”

  If she hadn’t gotten into trouble, Gramma Ruthie wouldn’t have gone looking for someone to step in to be Katy’s new mother. That meant it was up to Katy to convince Mrs. Graber she wasn’t needed—or wanted—by Katy Lambright or her father.

  “That was delicious, Rosemary.” Dad wiped his mouth and smiled at Mrs. Graber. He looked at Katy. “Just as good as Gramma Ruthie’s, wasn’t it?”

  It should be. It’s her recipe. Katy swallowed the comment and forced a smile. “Very good, Mrs. Graber. Thank you.” She poked at the mound of food on h
er plate. She’d barely eaten three bites of the cheesy chicken and cornbread stuffing casserole. Listening to Dad and Mrs. Graber talk and laugh like old friends during dinner had ruined her appetite. And she couldn’t help but think Gramma Ruthie had purposely shared Dad’s favorite casserole recipe with Mrs. Graber so the woman could score points with Dad.

  “You’re welcome.” Mrs. Graber smiled sweetly. Her eyes crinkled at the corners. She had more lines on her face than Dad. But she smiled a lot more than Dad—although Dad seemed to wear a goofy grin whenever Mrs. Graber was around.

  Katy jumped up. “I’ll clear the dishes and get them washed. I’m sure you’ll want to head back into town soon.”

  “Katy…” Dad pushed her name through clenched teeth.

  Katy sent him an innocent look.

  Mrs. Graber laughed. “It has been a long day. But a good one.” Her smile bounced back and forth between Katy and Dad. “Several of the town ladies and I spent the afternoon working on a quilt for next year’s Mennonite Relief Sale. I love to quilt, but my arms are tired.” She rose and began stacking plates and cups. “Let me help you, Kathleen. Don’t you have homework?”

  Katy considered allowing Mrs. Graber to do the dishes. For years, Katy had washed the breakfast, lunch, and supper dishes by hand because they didn’t have an automatic dishwasher like the one in her friend Shelby’s kitchen in Salina. What a treat to be released from that chore! But if Mrs. Graber washed them once, she might think she was welcome at Katy’s sink, in Katy’s kitchen, in Katy’s life.

  “Oh, no.” Katy plucked the stack from Mrs. Graber’s hands and forced a smile. “Your hands are tired from quilting. And dishwashing is one of my favorite duties. I’m happy to do it.”

  Dad shot Katy a startled look. She’d just lied, and Dad knew it. She pushed down the prickle of guilt in her chest and bounded to the sink, still jabbering. “Besides, you cooked supper. It’s hardly fair to make you cook and clean up.” Of course, Katy cooked and cleaned up every day, just like every other homemaker in Schellberg. She’d need to find a better argument. Whirling from the sink, she crowed, “And how silly would it be for you to do the cleanup in my kitchen? You don’t know where the plates and cups and everything else belong in my cupboards. It’s better if I just do it myself.”

  Dad now gawked at Katy, his face a mix of irritation and disbelief. But Mrs. Graber offered a nod and a soft laugh. “I’m sure you’re right, Kathleen. It’s best to allow you to manage your own kitchen.” She turned to face Dad. “Since Kathleen has everything under control, Samuel, I believe I’ll head back into town.”

  Katy heaved a huge sigh of relief. Finally, that woman was leaving!

  Dad rose from the table. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

  Katy rolled her eyes. Was Mrs. Graber incapable of finding her own car? It was parked right out by the barn!

  “Thank you.” Mrs. Graber reached for her coat, but Dad took it from the hook by the door and held it out for her. Katy tried hard not to watch while Mrs. Graber slipped her arms into the sleeves and Dad smoothed the blue wool over her shoulders. She didn’t want to see Mrs. Graber’s soft smile of thanks and Dad’s grin in reply. But she couldn’t look away. Her heart pounded fiercely against her ribs. Dad shouldn’t get so close to that woman.

  Dad opened the back door, and cool wind whisked into the kitchen. “Are you still open to going into Salina Friday evening for—” His voice faded away as he followed Mrs. Graber out of the house. The door banged shut behind them.

  Katy leaned across the sink, pressed her forehead to the cold glass, and squinted out the window. Dusk had fallen while they ate, but she saw their two shadowy figures move side by side, their feet in perfect synchronization, across the gray yard. Then Dad’s form stepped free of Mrs. Graber’s, and his hand reached out to open the car door. The dome light sent out a meager glow as Mrs. Graber slid into the seat. But Dad didn’t step away from the car. Instead, he leaned forward, sticking his head inside the car.

  Pressing her fingertips to the glass, Katy stared, unblinking. What was he doing, leaning in there? Talking? Or could he be kissing that woman good-night? She held her breath, waiting for Dad to back out, but he didn’t emerge. With a gasp, she raced across the kitchen and threw open the back door. “Dad!”

  Dad jerked upright and banged the back of his head on the car door opening. He rubbed his head and turned toward the house. “What?” He didn’t sound happy.

  What should she say? She couldn’t ask what he was doing—it really wasn’t her business. Her mind raced for a reason to have hollered. “When are you coming in?”

  He balled his fist on his hip. He’d been doing that a lot lately. “Why?”

  “Well…um…it’s cold out there.”

  “Then stay inside.” He leaned into the car again.

  Katy slammed the door. She couldn’t watch any longer. Her stomach churned. She just knew Dad was kissing that woman. Kissing her! And they had plans to go into Salina Friday night for…something.

  She ran water and clanked dishes around in the sink, her worry making her clumsy. Whatever Dad and Mrs. Graber had planned, she had to stop it. They were way too friendly. Things were moving way too fast. Somehow, she’d have to keep Dad home Friday. She’d have to get sick, or get hurt, or—

  “Oh no!” She slapped a sudsy hand to her cheek. How could she keep Dad home when she wouldn’t even be here? She’d be in Dodge City at the debate tournament. Gloom slumped her over the sink. What would she do now?

  Chapter Three

  Katy glanced at Dad when he stepped through the back door. He closed it with a firm click then placed his fist on his hip. He’ll give himself a callous there if he doesn’t quit using his hip as a prop for his fist.

  “Katy-girl, we need to talk.”

  We sure do. Katy lifted a soapy plate from the sink and rinsed it. “About what?”

  “Don’t play innocent with me. You know about what.”

  Yep. Her. “I have homework, Dad. Can it wait until tomorrow?” She scrubbed a plate so hard she risked rubbing a hole right through it.

  Dad clomped to the edge of the sink and folded his arms over his chest. His dark frown threatened to singe the ribbons on her cap. “Dry your hands, and look at me.” The command came out in a low tone Dad rarely used.

  Katy sucked in a breath and held it, her stomach quivering. She carefully dried her hands on the tea towel and shifted to face him. But she looked at Dad’s unsmiling lips rather than into his eyes.

  “Tell me why you dislike Mrs. Graber.”

  Katy’s gaze jerked to meet Dad’s. “I don’t dislike her.” She’d been honest. She didn’t dislike Mrs. Graber. But neither did she like her. And she didn’t want Dad to like her. Certainly not enough to kiss her!

  “Then why are you rude to her?”

  Katy sighed. Why couldn’t Dad understand they didn’t need this woman in their lives? “I’m not trying to be rude. I’m just…” Katy licked her lips, searching for a reason her dad would accept. “She’s here to visit you. Why do I have to talk to her?”

  “For the same reason I talk to your friends when they come over.”

  Katy resisted rolling her eyes. Most of the time when she had friends over—which wasn’t often—Dad hid out in the barn to avoid talking to them. He wasn’t comfortable talking to her friends. She said, “But you don’t.”

  Dad’s eyebrows formed a stern V. “I don’t what?”

  “Talk to my friends.”

  The V deepened. “Yes, I do.”

  Some stubborn imp rose up inside Katy and nudged her. “No, you don’t. You go out to the barn, or you read your newspaper. I entertain my friends. And that’s fine. It’s the way it should be.” Katy gained steam, her words pouring out louder and faster. “They’re my friends, not yours. It would be weird for you to want to spend time with them. So why should I—”

  “Katy!” Dad ran his hand over his face. He looked very tired. “We aren’t talking about me and your friend
s. We’re talking about you and Mrs. Graber.”

  Katy swallowed. Her fingers twitched to finish the dishwashing so she could escape to her bedroom. “What about her?”

  Dad’s shoulders rose and fell in a huge sigh. “I can see you’re determined to be difficult.”

  Yep, I am. Where she’s concerned, I really am.

  Dad continued. “To be honest, I considered grounding you for the weekend after the way you behaved this evening during supper. But that would create a problem for your debate coach, so I’m not going to. But…” Dad aimed his finger at Katy’s nose. “The next time Mrs. Graber is a guest in our home, you will treat her with courtesy. You will answer her questions politely and will participate in conversation so she doesn’t feel as if you’re ignoring her.”

  Had Mrs. Graber complained to Dad about Katy? The question created an unpleasant taste in Katy’s mouth. She wanted to spit it out, but Dad went on.

  “Furthermore, if she offers assistance, you’ll accept it graciously. And you won’t try to rush her out the door. If she wants to stay and visit, she should feel comfortable doing so.”

  Katy jumped in defensively. “Dad, I only told her I could do my own dishes! And how could she have known where to put everything away? This is my kitchen.” She almost choked on the words.

  Dad shook his head. “You’re missing the point. Deliberately, I’m sure.” Dad leaned forward. “Katy, be nice. Rosemary is a kind, generous, godly woman. She doesn’t deserve your discourtesy.” He straightened. Pink streaked his face, but he looked Katy square in the eyes. “I intend to ask permission of the deacons to court her.”

  Katy gulped.

  “If things go well, we’ll be married at the end of February.”