Chapter 11
Perry speedily pulled his buggy into his driveway after rescheduling his afternoon clients. He managed to finish the morning
one, and fortunately he’d shoed those three horses many times over the years. They were gentle, and one of them, Mo, kept
affectionately trying to nibble on his ear, something he always did when Perry shod him. But even Mo’s antics couldn’t stem
his concern for Ferman. He’d been in bad shape when Perry last saw him. Hopefully Margaret had made it over there already,
and he was just as hopeful Ferman didn’t give her and Daisy a hard time.
He quickly put up his horse and buggy. Later he would let the gelding out into the small corral behind the barn to enjoy some
fresh grass, but first he needed to check on the situation in his house.
When he walked into the empty front room, a thread of panic wound through him. Had they gone to the hospital? If so, why didn’t
anyone call him? He hurried the few steps to the back of the house.
“I’m done!” Ferman’s weary voice came through the bathroom door.
Frowning, Perry opened the door and saw Ferman leaning against the vanity counter, his face contorted with pain.
“What are you doing here?” the old man groused.
“Checking on you. Is everything okay?”
“I’m... just give me a hand, will ya?”
The exhausted defeat in Ferman’s eyes unsettled him, and Perry helped him back to the chair. “Where’s Daisy?”
“Thought she was right by the bathroom.” He leaned his head against the chair back and closed his eyes. “She can’t have gone
far. I was only in there a few minutes.”
“Did she leave?” If she had, then Perry had her pegged wrong. Who in good conscience would leave a feeble old man alone like
this?
“Doubt it. I heard her opening and closing the bedroom doors.”
He froze, a cold knot forming in his gut . “Be right back.”
Ferman’s head tilted to the side. “Take your time...” He let out a robust snort.
Perry dashed to the back, praying that Daisy had only gone into his bedroom. Not that he liked the idea of her seeing his
messy room, but he’d rather she did than discover his—
His stomach dropped. Only one door was open, and it was the one he always, always kept closed. And locked. He scrubbed his hand over his face, his anger rising. How dare she snoop around his house? Had she
picked the lock? She would have had to, because he never left it... oh wait. He’d been in there last week, and it was possible
he’d neglected to secure the door. That was on him.
He steeled himself, remembering the one and only time he’d allowed someone inside his private sanctuary and how that had backfired.
Spectacularly.
His jaw clamped down and he entered the room to see Daisy standing in the middle of it, invading his privacy. Again. This time it wasn’t endearing. Or pleasing. He cleared his throat, unable to trust that he wouldn’t say something he might
regret.
She whirled around, a surprised smile on her face. “Hi. You’re home early.”
He measured his steps as he approached her. “What are you doing in here?”
Her expression was the picture of innocence. “Looking for your spare bedroom.”
His fingers flexed. “You found it,” he ground out.
“ Ya , but Ferman can’t take a nap here, obviously. Is he finished in the bathroom?”
Unbelievable. She wasn’t aware she’d done something wrong. Or she was pretending she hadn’t. “He’s asleep in the chair.”
“ Gut . I won’t disturb him then.”
“Daisy—”
“Is all this yours?” Not waiting for an answer, she walked over to a wall and stared at the long glass display case that spanned
from one side to another.
He braced himself for her negative reaction.
“I’ve never seen anything so amazing.”
His eyes widened. “Huh?”
She looked at the other wall covered in scientific posters, then up at the ceiling. “There are butterflies... everywhere.”
Technically not, but his collection was unquestionably extensive. And weird and obsessive, according to Ruby—his ex-girlfriend.
Daisy stared at the four butterfly mobiles suspended from the wood beam across the middle of the ceiling. He’d ordered them
from a hobby store, then painstakingly assembled and hung them up, the task taking him more than ten hours. They had been
an incredible find, since most butterfly mobiles were either for babies or were unrealistic, nondetailed ones in girly colors.
These were delicate and lifelike.
Until he moved to Marigold and purchased this house, he’d spent the past ten years keeping his collection in a storage unit between here and Birch Creek. It had taken him two weeks to unpack and display everything, and he always kept the door shut in case company dropped by. That only happened occasionally, and it was always family. Not a single Bontrager knew he had a room filled with everything and anything that had to do with butterflies.
When she reached up to touch one of the mobiles, he sprang toward her. “Don’t!” He caught her arm, and with a light but firm
touch, he brought it down by her side.
She took a step back, her expression sheepish. “I’m sorry. I’m sure you put a lot of work into them.”
Perry frowned. For some reason she didn’t seem disconcerted by his horde of papilio or that he had forcibly kept her from
touching the mobile.
Her gaze shifted upward again. “They’re so lovely. That one looks like the butterfly that was in your house.”
“It’s a painted lady,” he said, moving closer to her and pointing to the one next to it. “And that’s a red admiral.”
“Oh, like the one you were trying to catch.”
“ Nee , that was the white admiral. He’s a different species.” Perry glanced at her again, feeling a little more at ease. She seemed
genuinely interested in his collection.
“Which one is that?” She pointed at the spring azure, the wings a shimmering sapphire color. When he told her, she asked about
several more.
He named every single one, resisting the urge to tell her their Latin designations, habitats, food preferences, and other
trivial minutiae nobody but the most avid of butterfly enthusiasts would care to know.
Daisy moved away from the mobiles to the crowded wall full of framed butterfly portraits. “Who drew these?”
Perry hesitated. “I did.”
“ Nee .” She turned to him, incredulous. “Those look like they came out of a science book. You’re a remarkable artist.”
“I’m not that gut ,” he deflected. “I’ve just had a lot of practice.”
“A whole lot.” She walked around the room, continuing her observations.
He frowned. As much as Daisy seemed intrigued and appreciative, she would soon be aware that an Amish man having an entire
bedroom dedicated to butterflies was beyond strange. Over the years, he’d questioned himself about his consuming interest
in an insect that typically appealed to females. From his independent studies using science books and journals from the library,
he knew there were plenty of male scientists and nature enthusiasts who exclusively investigated the beautiful insects. But
he didn’t know any Amish men who did, and he wasn’t interested in finding one. He’d always been satisfied enjoying his hobby
alone, and until now there was only one other person besides Daisy who knew about it. Ruby.
His family had assumed he’d never dated anyone, but they didn’t know about Ruby King. He met her two years ago when her family
started attending church in Marigold, shortly after he moved here. He’d never forget the day he decided to show her his collection,
which he had neglected when they started spending time together. He could still remember his excitement when he opened the
door to his room and invited her in.
“How bizarre.” She waved at his decade-long investment with a dismissive hand. “When we get married, all this has to geh .”
Her words pierced him, but he anticipated she would come around. Because he thought—no, he believed —that Ruby was the woman God wanted him to marry, even though, like his collection, he’d kept her a secret from everyone. “What do you mean, geh ?”
“In the trash.” Ruby walked through the room, barely glancing at the display case. “There’s a lot of junk in here.”
He couldn’t respond, his mind spinning that she would even consider throwing away his butterflies.
She’d glanced at the drawings. “I’m sure we can reuse these frames, though. After we take out the pictures.” Then she looked up at the mobiles. “Aren’t these for kinner ?”
“Ruby, don’t touch—”
Before he could stop her, she yanked down all four in quick succession. “There. That’s better.”
Perry shook his head, willing the memories away, but not before he recalled telling her he would expand the house after they
got married... but this room was his. When he tried to explain how the collection started and how much it meant to him,
she looked at him as if he were ab im kopp . Then she said it was either the butterflies or her.
He made his choice.
Looking back, it was the right one, because after they broke up, he realized she’d always been insistent on getting her own
way during their four-month relationship. He dodged a miserable marriage, but losing her had been difficult at the time. Since
he had kept their relationship under wraps, he’d had to suffer alone.
He was never going through that again.
“We should check on Ferman.” He tried to covertly guide Daisy toward the door.
“I thought you said he was sleeping.” She was looking at the drawings again, and she was almost nose to nose with his rendering
of Limenitis archippus —the viceroy butterfly. “I can’t believe how lifelike this looks.” She gestured to the other ones. “They all do. Did you copy
them out of a book?”
“ Nee, ” he said, then unwittingly let down his guard. “I caught most of them. I would make notes on their appearance, do a preliminary
drawing, and when I had the information I needed, I’d let them go.”
“But you have some butterflies over there.” She pointed at the display case with a slight frown. “They’re pinned to boards.”
“They were dead when I found them, or they were sick or injured and I couldn’t revive them. I would never kill one to display.”
Daisy turned, appearing more curious than before. “What about the admiral? You were trying to catch him.”
“To draw him, Daisy. That’s all.”
“Then you would let him geh .”
“ Ya . I don’t see the point in ending a life, no matter how small, just for a collection. Others think differently, and that’s
their prerogative. I’d rather see them flutter about in the wild.” That was more than he’d intended to say, and he wasn’t
going to say anything else. She might not think he was an oddball now, but he was certain if they spent one more second in
this room, he would cave into temptation and go full-on butterfly nerd. I have to get out of here. “Want some lunch?”
“It’s a little early, don’t you think? I’d rather stay here and look around some more.”
He took her arm and pulled her out of the room, almost slamming the door behind them. “I’d rather you didn’t.”
***
Daisy looked up at Perry’s intense gaze, completely bewildered. His butterfly collection was the most amazing thing she’d
ever encountered, and for some reason he seemed ashamed of it. Except when he answered her questions or explained his drawings
and the various butterflies in the glass case. That’s when his eyes lit up, like a giddy young boy at Christmas. So cute.
And informative. Perry Bontrager wasn’t merely a muscly, handsome man. He was really, really smart. A lot smarter than she would ever be. Which made his insistence that they leave the room even more baffling.
“I don’t understand,” she said.
“That’s my collection, Daisy. I don’t share it with anyone.”
Oh. Oh. Remorse flooded her. No wonder he was upset. She’d intruded on his privacy... again. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice
barely audible. She glanced down, unable to look him in the eye.
After an excruciatingly long moment, he said, “I should have told you this room was off-limits.”
She looked at him again. “To Ferman too?”
“To everyone .”
Despite knowing she needed to keep her nosiness in check when it came to Perry Bontrager, she wanted to ask why he was being
so secretive. His collection was entertaining, educational, and impressive, particularly the drawings. And when he was talking
about how he’d tried to nurse butterflies back to health and she saw the trace of sadness in his eyes when he admitted he
sometimes failed, a warm thrill coursed through her. She hadn’t expected this manly man to be so sensitive. Or to love butterflies
so much. He was full of surprises.
“Don’t tell anyone else either.” He leaned forward, enough that she could see the tiny dimple at the left corner of his mouth.
“Just forget it exists.”
Oh, this was a shame, him hiding such a magnificent display from the world. But she had to respect his wishes. “I promise.”
“I’ll make sure to keep it locked from now on.” He locked the door and started to walk away.
She remembered why she was there in the first place. “Wait,” she said, jumping in front of him. “I need to talk to you.”
“About what?” He crossed his arms over his chest.
“About...” He was wearing short sleeves and her gaze dropped down to his arms. Quickly she jerked her eyes back up. Ferman.
Right. She needed to talk to him about Ferman. She explained about Margaret’s mandate that Ferman couldn’t stay by himself.
“So I, uh, volunteered for him to stay here. With you.”
He stilled. “Where am I going to sleep?”
“I thought you had a spare bedroom. Most houses do.”
“Now you know mine doesn’t.”
His sharp tone irritated her. She was in the wrong, but he didn’t have to be so testy when they were talking about their patient.
“Excuse me, I was looking for a place for Ferman to nap.”
“He looks comfortable in the chair.”
“You can’t be serious.” Where was the kind man who didn’t want to harm a butterfly?
Perry glanced away, then nodded. “He can have my room. I’ve got a sleeping bag in the attic. I can camp on the living room
floor.”
That didn’t seem quite fair either. Perry had a job, and a physical one at that. He didn’t need to sleep on the hard floor,
even if it were for a few nights. “I won’t allow that.”
He smirked. “You won’t allow it?”
At least he wasn’t frowning anymore. “ Nee .” She tapped her finger on her chin, trying to think of a solution. Then it came to her. “The couch.”
“I don’t have a couch.”
She put her hands on her hips. “But you need one. And I know exactly where you can get it.”
***
Ferman woke up to the sound of the front door flying open. “Hey,” he said, two bodies and a sofa coming into fuzzy view. What
had Margaret put in that tea? And how long had he been sleeping anyway? He hadn’t slept so hard in months. Years, maybe. He’d
have some more of that brew later. Yes indeed.
Finally, he recognized Perry and Daisy setting the sofa down several feet from him. “What’s going on?” He followed up his
question with a strong yawn.
“Perry’s new bed.” Daisy stood and brushed off her hands. “For the time being.”
He shifted in the chair, and the movement surprisingly didn’t hurt as much as it had before he imbibed Margaret’s medicine.
Daisy’s statement cut through the haze. “Why is he sleeping on the couch?”
“You’re taking my room.” Perry sat down across from him. He leaned back and crossed his knee at his ankle.
“I’ll get the throw pillows,” Daisy said.
Perry lifted one index finger. “I—”
But she was already out the door.
“Don’t think I need throw pillows,” Perry mumbled. Then he focused on Ferman. “How are you feeling?”
“Surprisingly rested.” And in need of the facilities. Again. At his age, that wasn’t anything new. He started to get up, but
Perry intercepted him.
“Not without my help.” He put his arm around Ferman and helped him to his feet. “When you’re steady, let me know.”
“Confound it,” he said, a little stunned that he only sounded—and felt—half annoyed. “I can get to the bathroom on my own.”
“That’s not what Margaret said. I read her notes. You don’t want to cross her.” Perry’s grin dimmed. “She knows what she’s
doing. If you follow her directions and stop fighting me and Daisy, you’ll feel a lot better.”
Ferman wanted to grumble again, but he didn’t have it in him. “Fine. Take me to the facilities.”
After he finished and Perry helped him with the salve—which really brought relief, he had to admit—he allowed Perry to assist
him to the bedroom. “Good gravy, bu ,” Ferman said. “What a mess.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“My Lovina would have a conniption if I ever left our room in such a state.” They were at the edge of Perry’s unmade bed.
He slowly sat down, and with Perry’s help he settled against the soft mattress and firm pillow. Ah, that was better.
Perry closed the slate-blue curtains over his bedroom window, then swiped up his clothing and tucked the small pile under
one arm. As he passed his bureau, he shut the drawer. “Do you need anything else?” he said as he opened the door.
Feeling tired again, Ferman shook his head. Being in pain took a lot out of him. “Wait. Maybe some more of that tea. Daisy
knows the kind.”
“Sure thing.” He shut the door.
Plunged into semidarkness, Ferman closed his eyes, more than a little contrite. He didn’t like the idea of kicking Perry out of his room, no matter what Margaret said. But even his ornery mind knew that if he wanted to get home ASAP, he would have to comply. For a brief moment he went against his grain and thought about calling Junior. He wouldn’t feel as bad putting out family. But that would be more trouble than it was worth, and he would be alone with pregnant Polly Ann while his son was at work, and he didn’t want to be a burden to her. Regardless of what Junior would say, his daughter-in-law would see Ferman that way. She already did, even before they moved away.
He sighed, feeling stuck. He was an intrusion, exactly what he never wanted to be. As he drifted off to sleep again under
Perry’s gray sheets and a thick brown blanket, he repeated a prayer that God so far refused to answer since his hip pain started
long ago. Dear Lord ... please heal me.
***
Perry worked outside for the rest of the day while Ferman slept. He cleaned out the barn and horse stall, sharpened and oiled
his tools, then did some mowing in the backyard by the woods where he would plant his butterfly garden. By the time he was
done and had put the horse up for the night, it was dusk, and he was famished.
When he entered the house, he was immediately greeted with the scent of fresh bread baking. He poked his head into the kitchen.
Daisy was putting a tray of fluffy rolls on top of the stove before shutting the door. “Hi,” he said.
She jumped, nearly upending the rolls. “You scared me,” she said, her eyes wide. Before he could apologize, she held up her
hand. “It’s okay. This is the house where everyone ends up getting startled eventually.”
He wasn’t sure what she meant by that, and it didn’t matter because he noticed the casserole next to the rolls on the stove,
wisps of steam wafting from the top.
“You’re timing is gut . Supper is done.” She slipped off the red-and-yellow potholders Mamm had given him as a housewarming gift when he moved to Marigold, along with pots and pans, kitchen utensils—everything a bachelor would need for a stocked kitchen. He only used the pots for heating up soups, and the pan for cooking eggs or hamburgers. He had yet to bake anything.
Perry slipped off his boots, and since he was filthy, he refused to enter the kitchen. “You didn’t have to make supper,” he
said, pulling off his socks and tossing them into the almost-full clothes basket. He’d have to do laundry early the next morning,
and then he’d be off to see the two clients he rescheduled this morning.
“Margaret said to make sure Ferman ate enough. Nee reason why I can’t feed you too.” She smiled.
He paused, puzzled at the jolt of... something that went through him. When he and Daisy had retrieved the old couch from
her aunt and uncle’s basement—it wasn’t that old, and it felt comfortable when he sat on it—he had calmed his emotions by
the time they returned to his house. He was surprised by how strong she was, although he insisted they stop twice so she could
rest. She didn’t argue. The couch was heavier than it looked, and she was struggling by the time they brought it into his
house.
Despite the exertion, Daisy didn’t hesitate to get the throw pillows, and right after he put Ferman to bed, he went outside.
As he worked, he wondered if he owed her more of an explanation for why he had banished her from the butterfly room. He decided
he didn’t. This was his house, his room, his collection.
“I need to clean up,” he said, pulling his gaze from hers.
She nodded. “I’ll check on Ferman. He’s been sleeping all afternoon.”
Perry entered the bathroom, stripped down, and took a hot shower, scrubbing the dirt and grime from the barn and yard off his body. When he got out of the shower and grabbed the towel hanging on the hook on the wall, he discovered he’d forgotten something very, very important.
Clean clothes.
Living alone and with the bathroom being in close proximity to his bedroom, he never worried about simply wrapping a towel
around his waist and walking to the room after a shower, sometimes skipping the towel altogether. But now there were not one,
but two people here, and he couldn’t risk immodesty. It had been bad enough being shirtless around Daisy. He couldn’t only
wear a towel. And she said she would check on Ferman. She might still be in his bedroom right now.
Annoyed with himself, he looked at the smelly clothes on the bathroom floor. He could put these back on, but they were so
soiled he’d have to take another shower and then probably end up explaining why to Daisy and Ferman anyway. For the first
time he regretted that his house was so small.
“Daisy?” he hollered through the door.
Instantly he heard her light footsteps. “ Ya ?”
“Can you, uh, stay in the living room for a minute or two?”
“Is something wrong?”
“ Nee .” He leaned his forehead against the door. “I just, um, need you to stay there. I’ll let you know when you can come out.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine, Daisy,” he said, trying to keep the impatience out of his tone. He started to dry off. “Just geh . Please.”
“Okay.”
He listened as she walked away and waited a few more seconds for good measure. When he was sure the coast was clear, he wrapped the towel around his lower body and started opening the door, only to spin around and grab the dirty clothes he’d forgotten. The way his brain was short-circuiting right now, he’d lose it if it weren’t inside his head. His shirt slipped out of his grip, and when he bent down to pick it up, his towel slipped off.
“For crying out loud,” he grumbled, setting the clothes in the sink and fastening the towel more securely this time. There.
Now all he had to do was get to his room. He threw open the door.
“Land o’ mercy, boy!” Ferman’s brow flew to his hairline. “Put some clothes on!”