A Picture of Love

by Beth Wiseman

His mother covered her mouth as she yawned. “Pardon me,” she said before she lowered her hand. “I’m going to excuse myself and retire for this evening. Danki again for letting us use your horse and buggy. We had such a lovely time and are looking forward to seeing many of our cousins again at the wedding tomorrow.”

  Amos wasn’t looking forward to that part of the trip, and the only one who seemed to understand was Naomi.

  As his mother started up the stairs, Amos wondered if he should excuse himself as well. He lingered, though, and walked to the window, then commented about what a nice view they had of the sun setting.

  “You two should go take a walk,” Lizzie said, grinning.

  Amos turned around. It was difficult not to chuckle when Lizzie spoke sometimes. She seemed to have a hard time with her false teeth, which was comical, but he never allowed himself to crack a smile, which might hurt her feelings. But she was also clearly playing matchmaker by suggesting the walk. What Lizzie didn’t know was that he and Naomi had already set the boundaries for their relationship. Friendship. But he wouldn’t mind having someone to share his feelings with about the wedding tomorrow.

  He turned to Naomi, but she avoided his eyes as she put a hand on the back of her neck. The rejection was coming. He reminded himself that it didn’t matter, but his male ego kicked in and he forced a yawn.

  “I think I’m going to have to pass.” He kept his eyes on her to catch her expression, which didn’t give away much. She just lowered her arm and nodded. But then her eyes softened, and she parted her lips slightly.

  Amos told his feet to move toward the stairs, but there was almost a longing in her beautiful eyes, and he found himself drawn to her in a way that surprised him. He opened his mouth to tell her he’d changed his mind.

  “Gut nacht,” she said and moved toward the stairs.

  He watched the graceful way she carried herself, even caught her looking back at him once, her eyes meeting his . . . and he realized he’d made a mistake. It wasn’t longing in her eyes. It was sorrow. He recalled their conversation.

  It would be impossible not to think of Sarah the entire time. But Naomi might have to actually face the person who broke her heart. Sarah snuck into Amos’s dreams, and seeing her was always wonderful. Until he woke up and stretched his arm across an empty bed.

  He wasn’t sure what to pray for Naomi. Maybe if her ex—Thomas was his name, he remembered—showed up, there would be a chance for them to work things out. But if the guy did show up and with no desire to get back together, that would be even worse for Naomi.

  When he got to his room, he sat on the bed, then lit the lantern. He decided all he could do was pray that God’s will be done tomorrow. But, please, Lord, help Naomi and me both stay strong.

  * * *

  Esther waited until she heard Lizzie snoring in the bedroom next door before she eased out of bed. She tiptoed to the living room and took her black cape from the rack. The October days had been warmer than usual, but the night air would be crisp and chilly, so she chose to put on her black bonnet as well.

  She’d seen Gus’s lantern in the cottage and knew he was still up. Unless he’d fallen asleep in his recliner inside. If he could fall asleep in a wooden rocker on the porch, she supposed he might be asleep. Esther had worried for years that Gus would knock over a lantern one day when he fell asleep without extinguishing it.

  With a flashlight illuminating the ground in front of her, Esther made the trek to the cottage. She tried to step softly as she held the handrail and ambled up the steps.

  Gus flung the door open before she had a chance to knock. “What do you want?”

  Esther drew in a calming breath. Lizzie would be furious she’d come to check on Gus. And by the tone of Gus’s voice, Esther wished she hadn’t bothered. “I didn’t see your dochder arrive today. We had a room prepared for her. I-I just came to see if you were all right.”

  Gus clenched his fists at his sides, and even in the dim lighting, she could tell his face was as red as a freshly painted barn. “Why wouldn’t I be all right?” He grunted, but relaxed his hands, then looped his thumbs beneath his suspenders. With his new haircut, he almost looked Amish, minus the beard. Esther shivered at the thought. She didn’t even know if Gus believed in God, and she was sure a man like Gus would never be able to adhere to their ways. She’d been shocked when he first moved into the cottage and didn’t fuss about not having any electricity.

  “Ach, very well. I’m glad you’re fine.” Esther fought the urge to roll her eyes, but when her stomach began to churn, she put a hand across her stomach and bent slightly at the waist. She always carried a tissue in the pocket of her apron, but she didn’t have her apron on, only her cape over her dress.

  “Yeah, well I am.” Gus dismissed her with the wave of his arm, but Esther couldn’t move, and when she coughed, blood spilled into her hand.

  “What the . . . ?” Gus narrowed his bushy gray eyebrows and leaned his head over.

  “I need a tissue,” Esther managed to say as she spit in her hand again, unintentionally.

  Gus growled and mumbled something under his breath as he went into the house, leaving the door open. He came back with half a roll of toilet paper and pushed it toward her.

  Esther pulled off several squares and held them to her mouth. “Danki,” she said in a whisper before she tore off a longer wad this time, dabbing her chin and avoiding Gus’s glare. When she finally looked up at him, his cold dark eyes pecked at her attempt to regain her dignity.

  “What’s wrong with you?” He scratched his cheek where a shadow was already laying the foundation for the beard he would probably grow back. There was a hint of concern in his expression, but the scowl on his face remained.

  “I don’t know.” She’d been having stomach troubles for a while, but she’d only coughed up blood like this one other time, about a week ago.

  Gus folded his arms across his chest, his stomach doubling as a perch. “Maybe you need a doctor.” His tone was husky and stern, but not completely uncaring.

  “Ya, ya. We’ll see.” Esther was terrified of anyone in the medical field and had been since she was a child. She’d managed to go seven years without visiting a doctor. Wagging a finger at him, she said, “Gus Owens, don’t you speak a word about this to anyone, especially Lizzie.” Esther’s sister had gone to the doctor for a splinter once. Another way they were complete opposites.

  Lizzie wasn’t afraid of doctors—or much of anything—and she disliked having anything wrong with her. She always bypassed any natural remedies and went straight to the English doctors, saying God would understand and that they’d had more training than the holistic people here. She’d have a fit if she knew Esther was having this much trouble with her health.

  Esther shot Gus her fiercest attempt at rage, pressing her lips together and squinting her eyes at him. He needed to understand that this was her business, and she’d share it if and when she was ready. “I mean it. Not a word about this to anyone.” She’d probably overshot her point, since Gus smirked.

  “I’m glad you think this is funny.” She spun on her heels, clutching the toilet tissue, and pointed the light in front of her as she stomped down the steps. Her emotions spiraled, caught somewhere between fear and anger.

  “I won’t tell her.”

  Esther turned around on the bottom step. “Danki, I appreciate that.” She wanted to believe him, but she had her doubts. Her stomach still roiled, and she just wanted to get home.

  “You make pies every day. One generous slice per day, and I’ll keep my mouth shut.” He puffed his chest out as he lowered his arms to his sides, grinning.

  Esther bristled with indignation. From anyone else, this request would be a shock. It was a stretch even for Gus. Why couldn’t he just do something out of the kindness of his heart? But Esther managed a coy smile. “Of course, Gus. I’ll bring you a slice of pie every day.” She paused, her eyes crinkling in the corners. “Aren’t you worried I might poison you or somethi
ng?”

  He chuckled. “Nah, you ain’t got it in you.” Now he was the one pointing a finger at her. “But that wicked sister of yours, I wouldn’t put it past her to lace my pie with arsenic.”

  “Nor would I.” She shook her head and started home.

  “You gotta be the one to bring it every day, not ol’ Lizzie. At the very least, she’d spit on it.”

  Esther didn’t turn around, but she smiled. Gus was right. Esther could never poison anyone, and in reality, neither could Lizzie. But spit on his pie? Now, that was tempting.

  Five

  It was nearly eleven when Naomi covered her head with a scarf, slipped into her robe, and stepped into the hallway. Esther had installed battery-operated lights along the floorboards every few feet. They attached to the wall and lit the floor and stairs just enough to see. She also put a flashlight on every guest’s night table. The English weren’t used to feeling their way around in the dark. Lizzie always said Amish folks had cat eyes, from maneuvering in the dark all their lives.

  Naomi had only taken a few steps down the hall when she wished she’d put on socks. The wood floors were cold against her bare feet. After she crossed through the living room, she thought about whether she’d have apple or pecan pie. Maybe both.

  “Wie bischt.”

  Naomi gasped. “What are you doing up so late?”

  Amos set a fork on a plate with a slice of pecan pie. “I guess the same thing you’re doing. Couldn’t sleep, and I kept thinking about these pies calling my name.” A corner of his mouth lifted on one side. “I already had a slice of the apple, so now I’m working on pecan.”

  The kitchen held more battery-operated lights. Naomi had often wondered how much money the sisters spent on batteries, but she supposed the safety of their guests didn’t come with a price tag.

  Naomi had wanted to feed her anxiety with a giant slice of pie, then have a good cry afterward. Now she’d have to be more ladylike and select a smaller serving.

  After she took a plate from the cabinet, then a fork from the drawer, she pulled out a chair across from Amos. She cut a dainty slice of apple pie, and once it was on her plate, she forked a bite and savored the late-night indulgence. Afterward, she stared across the table at Amos.

  “I’d do anything to get out of this wedding in the morning.” Naomi shook her head. “And that makes me a terrible person.” They’d already talked about how neither of them wanted to go, but it lightened the load to say it out loud.

  An eager look flashed in his eyes. Not a muscle on his face moved, not even a twitch. This man seemed to speak with his eyes. “Then let’s don’t go.”

  Naomi frowned. “What? I have to go. You might be able to get out of it since you don’t really know the bride and groom.”

  He scratched his chin, a gesture she’d noticed him doing often when thinking something through. “Ya, true. But mei mamm would be pretty upset with me.” He grinned, then took another bite of pie. After swallowing he said, “So, you see, we’d both be in trouble. We could just go ready the horse, get in the buggy, and take off.” He pointed the fork at her. “We’d leave a note, of course. We wouldn’t want everyone worrying about us. That would ruin the wedding. They’d be mad, but they’d get over it.”

  Naomi momentarily put a hand over her mouth, afraid she might burst out laughing. “I almost think you’re serious.”

  Those eyes of his met hers again and twinkled with mischief. “I am.”

  She leaned back in the chair, slouching a little as she strummed her fingers on the table. “Very tempting.” Then she shook her head and returned to her pie. “But I have to go.”

  His eyes found hers again. “I know.”

  They were quiet, each enjoying the pie, lost in their own thoughts. Naomi was anyway. She hadn’t lied. She had to attend the wedding, even though she really didn’t want to. Thomas was invited, but she had no idea if he was coming. Apparently there had been no RSVP one way or the other. Naomi wanted to despise and hate him, but she still loved him. She’d take him back if he asked her to. That kind of love only came along once in a lifetime. Surely, he’d only gotten cold feet. But every time her thoughts moved optimistically toward a reunion, she reminded herself that she hadn’t heard from him.

  Amos stood up and carried his dishes to the sink. “Four is going to come early. If things get too hard for you tomorrow, come find me. We’ll make our escape.” Smiling, he said, “Gut nacht, Naomi. Try to sleep, and Gott’s peace be with you.”

  “And with you,” she said in a whisper as he walked away.

  * * *

  Amos was programmed to get up at four, no alarm needed, but he was slow moving the next day. The sense of dread hadn’t vanished overnight. If anything, it had intensified. Would he see Sarah’s face throughout the entire ceremony, picturing the two of them taking their vows?

  Strangely, he had a growing curiosity about something else that he hoped might be a distraction. He wondered what Thomas looked like. Naomi was beautiful—one of the most beautiful women he’d ever met. Was her ex-fiancé a handsome and charming guy? He couldn’t imagine anyone leaving Naomi, not anyone who truly loved her. He was wise enough to know that beauty ran far beneath the skin, but Naomi had an air of kindness, mixed with just enough humor to make her not only beautiful, but interesting. Even though he wasn’t in the market for a relationship, he enjoyed conversation with her.

  By the time he got downstairs, everyone was bustling about. Amos could tell an attempt was being made to be quiet. The new guests were still upstairs sleeping. But with five of them putting on jackets, capes, and bonnets, there was still a flurry of activity.

  When they reached their destination, Amos would be prepared to help the men with any setup that needed to be done—tables, chairs, tents outside. The women would mostly be in the kitchen until the ceremony started. Some of the ladies would even continue with food preparations while the wedding was going on inside the house. After the ceremony everyone would gather to eat outside. Amos remembered the setup well, and he’d heard Amish weddings were mostly universal. He could still recall the anticipation and excitement he’d felt about his own wedding day, before Sarah got sick. It was unlike the tightness in his chest and temptation to flee he was feeling today.

  Lizzie pointed to an ice chest on the floor. “Amos, can I trouble you to put that in Esther’s buggy, the same one you took yesterday?”

  “Ya, ya. Of course.” Amos picked up the cooler, and Naomi opened the door for him. He wondered if his eyes were as telling as hers. Let’s get this day over with.

  After everyone had donned warm clothes that could be shed later when it warmed up, Lizzie announced that she, Esther, and Amos’s mother would ride in one buggy, and Amos and Naomi could take Lizzie’s buggy, following them to the wedding. He could tell by the way the two sisters and his mother grinned that this was a setup. But that was okay. He enjoyed Naomi’s company, and they were in the same sinking boat until this event was behind them.

  * * *

  Naomi’s teeth chattered in the darkness as Amos guided the buggy down the road to the bride’s house, where Suzanne and Isaiah would be married. The drive was a straight shot but would take about ten minutes.

  Amos looked over his shoulder. “I don’t see a blanket, but you’re shaking.” He started to ease his jacket off his shoulders.

  “Nee, don’t do that. I’m fine.” She turned to him, still shivering. “I don’t know how much of my shaking is due to the cold. I’m incredibly nervous.”

  Amos nodded. “We need a code word.”

  Naomi chuckled lightly. “What?”

  “A code word. If the situation becomes unbearable for either one of us, we can say the word, whether it’s in conversation or we have to mouth it to each other across the room or from underneath the tent. Then we can meet up and get away.”

  Naomi laughed again, a nervous sound that she hoped didn’t slip out at the wedding. “As silly as that sounds, I’m going to go along with it.” Sh
e tapped a finger to her chin. “Hmm . . .” She twisted her mouth back and forth. “If we aren’t close by, we can just raise a hand. If we’re close enough to hear each other, let’s make the word . . .” She thought about it some more, then shrugged, giggling. “I don’t know.”

  Amos chuckled, turning to her briefly. “We’re not very gut at this.”

  As Naomi pondered, Suzanne’s house appeared in the distance, easy to see since it was lit up like the county fairground at night. People often joked that the highest propane bill they ever had was the day and night of a wedding, an all-day affair. “We better hurry.” She pointed in front of her. “We’re still a mile or so away, but we’re failing miserably.”

  “Dancing shadows.” Amos glanced at her before shifting his eyes back to the road.

  Naomi frowned. “Dancing shadows? What in the world made you think of that?”

  His eyes gleamed in the pale light of the moon as he slowed the horse’s gait slightly. “The moonlight behind the trees has been casting little shadows across your face, like little people dancing.”

  She laughed. “Our people don’t dance.”

  Amos chuckled too. “I know, but it was the first thing that came to mind.”

  Naomi shook her head. “Little people dancing on mei face? Really?” She paused and gave a taut nod of her head. “Ach, well, that’s it then. Dancing shadows, even though that’s two words.” She playfully pointed a finger at him.

  They were almost there, and she had to give Amos credit. He’d managed to keep her mind occupied during the short trip. Thomas hadn’t crept into her head until now. She wanted to thank Amos, but any words she tried to form were wedged in her throat. As they turned into the driveway, a war of emotions raged within her.

  She jumped when Amos gently touched her arm. “You’re going to be okay. Remember . . . dancing shadows.”

  It sounded like an odd choice. How closely had Amos been watching her? Had he stolen glances when she wasn’t looking? It didn’t really matter. Naomi just stared straight ahead and nodded.