by Amy Clipston
“I’ll be fine.” She looked down at her soaked apron and dress and then shook her head. “I don’t think I could get much more drenched. My shoes will take forever to dry out.”
Her gaze collided with his, and they laughed. “We’re a sight, huh?”
“Ya, we are.” He angled his body toward her, resting his bent elbow on the back of the seat as he looked at her.
She tilted her head to the side and studied him. Memories of their days in youth group filled her mind, and she smiled. Everything was so simple back then.
“Penny for your thoughts.” He shoved the fingers of his left hand through his wet hair, causing it to stand up in a wild blond mess.
“I was just thinking about youth group.” She turned and rested her shoulder against the dark-green vinyl seat. “We had a lot of fun.”
“Ya, we did.”
“What do you miss about being Amish?”
He looked out the windshield and then back at her. “I miss the community. I miss feeling a part of something.” He looked down at his fingers as he brushed them over the back of the seat. “I miss not being a disappointment to my parents.”
Her heart squeezed at the sadness she was certain she heard in his tone. “Why don’t you come back?” She whispered the question and hoped he heard it over the roar of the rain.
He looked up at her.
“Come to church tomorrow,” she said.
Instead of responding, he reached over and traced the tip of his finger down her cheek with a light, butterfly touch, and then he dropped his hand. Her breath caught in her throat as her cheek burned where his skin had been.
“You had a raindrop there.” His look was intense as his eyes locked with hers.
Heat flooded her body from her head straight to her toes. Sitting this close to him was dangerous. She had to get out of the truck before he touched her again.
“Danki for the ride.” She gripped the door handle. “I hope to see you in church tomorrow.”
Before he could respond, she thrust open the door, hopped out of the truck with her wet apron in hand, shut the door hard, and ran to the house through the angry raindrops.
“Gude mariye.” Jerry stepped into his mother’s kitchen the following morning, and the aroma of eggs, bacon, and freshly baked bread filled his senses and caused his stomach to gurgle.
Mamm and Biena looked over from the counter, and their eyes widened in unison.
“What are you doing here so early on a Sunday?” Mamm asked.
“I thought I’d go to church with you.” He slipped into the chair next to his father, who stared at him with the same confused expression his mother and sister had.
“What did you say?” Mamm set a platter of scrambled eggs on the table.
“I said I’d like to join you for church . . . if that’s okay.” Jerry smiled at her.
“Ya.” Mamm’s smile could have lit up a darkened room. “That would be wunderbaar.”
“Are you serious?” Dat looked unconvinced. “You’re really going to go to church with us?”
“Ya, I am.”
Biena set a plate and utensils in front of him. “Are you going just to see Clara?” She set a filled coffee cup next to him.
“Danki,” Jerry said. “And, no, I’m not going to see Clara.” He’d spent most of last night analyzing his sudden urge to go to church, and he realized he wanted to worship, especially with his former district. He was almost certain he’d heard a tiny whisper from God calling him to the church, yet a thread of uncertainty remained along with the thread of longing he’d experienced for weeks.
“You’re not dressed appropriately.” Dat pointed to Jerry’s blue short-sleeved polo shirt and khaki trousers. “You don’t look Amish.”
Jerry shifted in his seat. “I don’t have any Amish clothes that fit. I’m taller than I was the last time I went to church. And I’m not ready to dress Amish yet.”
Dat rubbed at his graying light-brown beard and stared. Jerry could feel the disapproval coming in waves.
Will I ever stop disappointing him?
“Let’s eat,” Mamm said. “We’ll need to get on the road before we know it.”
As Jerry bowed his head in silent prayer, he asked God to guide his heart.
Clara’s heart seemed to trip over itself as she carried a coffee carafe to the table where Jerry sat in the Esh family’s barn. She’d been so shocked when she spotted him at the back of the barn during the church service that she’d rubbed her eyes to make sure she wasn’t imagining him. Yes, she’d told him she hoped he’d be there, but she didn’t really think he would come. Then when he waved to her, she’d almost fallen off the bench. She wanted to talk to him alone, but they wouldn’t have a chance during the noon meal. Maybe he would join them at Emma’s house later.
Moving down the long table, she filled men’s coffee cups as she made her way to Jerry, who sat next to his father and across from Ephraim and Wayne. She took in how his blue polo shirt made his eyes seem bluer somehow. Also, his clean-shaven face and strong jaw looked even more handsome without the stubble she’d noticed there yesterday.
She did a mental headshake. Why was she torturing herself? Just because he was at church didn’t mean he was going to be baptized.
“Would you like kaffi?” She held up the carafe and forced her lips into a smile.
“Ya, please.” Floyd, Jerry’s father, lifted his cup, and she filled it. “Danki.”
Then she reached across the table and filled Wayne and Ephraim’s cups before turning to Jerry. Warmth cascaded through her as her gaze tangled with his. She felt as if everyone else in the barn had faded away and they were the only two people left—alone.
“Kaffi?” she asked.
“Ya.” He smiled. “Danki.”
She filled the cup and then handed it to him. When their fingers brushed, she swallowed a gasp. “It’s gut to see you here.”
“It’s gut to be here.”
She lost herself in the depths of his eyes for a moment.
“Clara,” a man called, snapping her out of her trance. “Could I get a refill?”
“Excuse me,” she said to Jerry before turning away.
She felt a twisty pang in her chest—a mixture of yearning and panic. She was falling too deep into her emotions for Jerry. She needed to ask someone for advice, and she trusted only one person to listen without judgment.
“Clara. You’re early,” Emma said as Clara stepped into her kitchen later that afternoon.
“I need to talk to you.” Clara wrung her hands as she looked at the table. “Could we sit before anyone else gets here?”
“Of course, mei liewe.” Emma cupped her hand to Clara’s cheek. “You look so distraught. Tell me what’s wrong.”
Clara sank into a chair as Emma sat down beside her. She paused for a second, debating how much to share. Then she shook her head and started from the beginning. “You know Jerry and I were gut freinden in school and in youth group.”
Emma nodded.
“He was like my best freind, really. Well, he was my best guy freind. He defended me on the playground when we were kinner, and we were close even after we finished school.”
“You care about him.” Emma’s smile was warm.
“Right.” Clara cleared her throat. “Well, it broke my heart when he stopped going to church and youth group five years ago, and I was shocked the day he dropped Biena off here. Since he started helping here last month, we’ve talked, and I’ve encouraged him to come back to the church. I assume you saw him today, right?”
“Ya, I did. And it’s so wunderbaar that you’ve done that.” Emma clasped her hands together.
“I’m not so sure.” Clara lifted a paper napkin from the holder in the middle of the table and began folding it into a smaller square. “He was still dressed like an Englisher.”
“I did notice that.” Emma frowned.
“He sat in the back of the barn, too, instead of with the other unmarried young men.”
<
br /> “I know, but he came to church.” Emma patted her hand. “That’s what you wanted, right?”
“Ya, it was.” Clara pushed the napkin away. “But that’s not what’s bothering me.”
“You can tell me. I’ll listen to you, and I’ll keep your secrets.”
“I know, and I appreciate it.” Tears stung her eyes, and she unsuccessfully tried to blink them back. “I care about Jerry, Emma, and that scares me.”
“Ach, mei liewe.” Emma rubbed her shoulder.
“I’m afraid I’m going to become too attached to him, and then I’ll be crushed if he doesn’t join the church.” Clara grabbed another napkin and dabbed tears from her cheeks. She heard a thump and saw movement out of the corner of her eye. Then she felt something velvety soft on her arm. She smiled as Hank sat beside her on the table, rubbing his head against her.
“He knows you’re upset. Don’t you, Hank?” Emma asked.
“He’s so sweet.” Clara touched the cat’s ear.
“Ya, he’s sweet, but not when he wakes me up at five thirty in the morning to fill his food bowl.” Emma clicked her tongue. “Clara, you care for Jerry, and I think he cares for you too.”
“You do?” Clara thought she felt her heart perform a giddy flip. Hearing that from Biena was one thing. Hearing it from Emma was another.
“It’s obvious with the way you two seem to gravitate to each other, but I don’t have to tell you it’s risky to allow yourself to develop deeper feelings for him. You said it yourself—he’s not Amish, and he hasn’t made any promises to join the church, has he?”
Clara’s heart sank, and she shook her head.
Hank moved to Emma, and she rubbed his chin.
“Years ago, an Englisher joined the church and married an Amish woman. They had six kinner together, and then one day he left and never came back.” Emma’s expression was grave. “His fraa was devastated when he divorced her, and of course she never remarried. But I think the heartbreak was too much for her anyway. She could never trust another man.”
“That’s so bedauerlich.”
“Ya, it was.” Emma shook her head as Hank jumped down to the floor and sauntered off toward the family room. “I’m not implying Jerry will join the church and then leave. I’m just trying to caution you. He went to church today, and that’s a big step in the right direction. But you can’t force him to become baptized, and you can’t hang all your hopes on the possibility he will. If you allow yourself to get too emotionally involved with him, you might find yourself alone and shunned.”
Emma gave Clara’s hand a gentle squeeze. “I don’t want that for you. Why don’t you give Jerry some space? Let him figure out his feelings toward the church. Then if he joins, you can explore what the future might hold for you.”
“Danki.” Clara forced a smile that felt brittle. As much as Emma’s words made sense, Clara didn’t know how she was going to let go of her growing feelings for Jerry.
“It was nice to see you at church today,” Clara told Jerry as they sat on Emma’s back porch later that evening. She pushed the rocking chair into motion with her toe as she stared out toward the garden. The aroma of moist earth filled her nostrils as a warm breeze fluttered over her skin.
“And surprising?”
She nodded.
“My family was just as surprised as you were. Maybe more.” He rested his elbows on the armrests of his chair.
“Do you think you’ll come again?”
“Ya.” He nodded. “I do.”
“Did the bishop talk to you?”
“He said it was nice to see me too.”
“That’s gut.” She looked out toward the rows of cornstalks reaching toward the sky. Her mind spun with Emma’s words of caution and her confusing emotions for Jerry. How could she release him when she’d already invested so much of her heart into their friendship? Why would God lead her to Jerry if they weren’t meant to be together?
“Clara?”
“What?” She turned her head toward him.
“I asked you if you’d like a ride home.” His mouth quirked. “You seemed lost in thought. What were you thinking about?”
“Oh, nothing.” She waved it off and stood. “Ya, I’ll take that ride.”
“Not until you tell me what was on your mind.”
Oh no!
She tried to think of some excuse for her distraction, but her mind went blank.
The storm door opened and Biena appeared on the porch. “Mamm is going to worry about us if we don’t leave soon. Are you ready to go?”
Relief flooded Clara. Saved by Biena!
“Ya, let’s go. We’ll drop Clara off at her haus.” Jerry stood.
As Clara walked toward Jerry’s truck, she wondered if someday she’d be able to ride with him in a buggy he owned instead.
Dread bogged Jerry’s steps as he made his way up the path to his parents’ back porch. Dat was sitting in a rocking chair, and he had a deep frown on his face.
“Hi, Dat,” Jerry said as he climbed the steps. “I thought I’d say hello before going home.”
“Have a seat. I want to talk to you.”
Jerry sat down in the rocking chair beside him. A heaviness filled his chest as he looked out toward the sunset and the cicadas serenaded the evening. He and his father rarely had deep conversation, so something had to be wrong.
“What are you doing?” Dat asked.
“What?” Jerry turned toward him and felt his brow pinch.
“Why did you go to church with us today?”
“I thought you’d be froh that I went.”
Dat studied him, and Jerry fought the urge to cringe. “No, that’s not it. If you truly wanted to be Amish, you’d dress like it.” He pointed to Jerry’s khaki shorts. “You’d get rid of that truck, and you’d buy a horse and buggy.”
Jerry held up his hands as if to calm his father’s boiling frustration. “Going back to church today was a step toward a decision.”
“A step toward a decision?” Dat said. “You either want to be Amish or you don’t. You can’t have it both ways.” He pointed toward the barn. “You can’t drive that truck while you consider what you want to do. It’s one or the other.”
“Why are you so angry with me?”
“Because you’re going to break your mamm’s heart again,” Dat snapped. “You already hurt her when you stopped going to church, moved out, started dressing English, and bought that truck.” He gestured widely. “Now you’re going to attend a few services, make her believe you’re coming back, and then change your mind. I know you, Jerry. You need to make up your mind.”
He flinched at the accusing words. Did Dat know him—really know him? And what would his father know about his dilemma? Nothing.
When his phone buzzed, he pulled it from his pocket.
“This is exactly what I’m talking about,” Dat continued. “You can’t go to an Amish church service and then read texts on your phone.”
“It’s for work, Dat.” Jerry glanced at his uncle’s text with instructions for when and where to report for work tomorrow, and then he pushed the phone back into his pocket.
“So what’s it going to be? Are you going to come back to the church or not? You can’t leave your mother in limbo like this.”
“I don’t know.” Jerry settled back in the chair as waves of unease stirred in his gut.
“This is about Clara Hertzler, isn’t it?”
Jerry’s gaze cut to his father.
“Don’t look so surprised. I’m not deaf, and I’m not blind. I heard your schweschder’s question about why you were going to church this morning, and I saw how you and Clara interacted today.” Dat leaned toward him. “If you decide to join the church, it can’t be just for her. It has to be for God. And if you aren’t going to join the church, you shouldn’t string her along. You know you can get her shunned, right?”
Jerry bit back bitter-tasting guilt.
Dat stood. “You need to figure out what you’re doing
before you hurt yourself and everyone who cares for you.”
As his father disappeared into the house, Jerry leaned his head back against his chair and closed his eyes. Tension burned in his chest as Dat’s words echoed in his head. He was stuck between two worlds—Amish and English—and he had no idea where he belonged. Where was his true home?
CHAPTER 6
Clara pushed her potato salad around on her plate with her fork as envy ran through her veins.
Across from her at Emma’s large picnic table, Katie Ann and Chris sat close together and talked, and Mandy and Ephraim leaned against each other and whispered. She turned toward Wayne and Tena, who had been sitting and talking beside her for nearly an hour. They had struck up a friendship, and they gravitated to each other every time Wayne was at Emma’s house. They were both baptized, and most likely they’d be the next couple brought together by Emma’s garden.
Her mouth twisted into a frown, and she rubbed her forehead where a headache throbbed. Jealousy was wrong. Letting it take over was worse. But she couldn’t deny how it had overtaken her. Jerry had seemed distant during the past two weeks, and then he hadn’t shown up at church today, let alone at Emma’s house. Perhaps he’d realized once and for all that he didn’t want to be Amish and thought it best to stay away from her—from all of them.
Humidity stole her breath. The hot, late-July air hadn’t seemed to move at all today. She looked over at the path leading to the porch and spotted Hank asleep under a bush, curled up in a ball. He was probably too hot as well.
“Clara,” Ephraim called, and she looked over at him. “Would you like a ride home?”
“Ya.” She nodded. “Danki.”
“Could I get one too?” Biena asked.
“Of course,” Ephraim said. “We have room for both of you.”
“We can leave right after we clean up the kitchen,” Mandy said.
“Sounds gut.” Clara stood and began to gather their plates. As she carried them into the kitchen, she wondered when—and if—she’d see Jerry again.
“Thank you for coming in today,” Onkel Saul said as he and Jerry reloaded supplies in his company van. “I hated to have to call you on a Sunday, but we have to do what we can when there’s an emergency.”
