A Picture of Love

by Beth Wiseman

  “Here’s why I said you’re underconfident, not because of what you said.” With perfect precision, he led the brush in her hand to the leafy part of a cornstalk, then pressed a soft swoosh upward.

  She let out a small gasp as he pulled their hands away from the canvas, and when she turned to face him, he’d leaned down enough that they almost bumped noses.

  “It looks so much better with that extra length, and it’s so delicate. I’m always afraid of—” She stopped herself and grinned. “Underconfident.” She nodded. “I guess you’re right. I’m always afraid of the ripple effect that happens when I don’t have enough paint on the brush.”

  “Look at all your other cornstalks. If you did this with all of them, it would show a sort of freedom, like they’re endless and reaching for the clouds, growing in Gott’s grace.” He smiled, but it quickly faded. “And I guess I need to quit hiding mei feelings.”

  Still facing him, she asked. “Was I right? Is that just the way you paint, or do you camouflage the way you feel also?”

  He rubbed the side of his neck, avoiding her eyes. “Ya. I think I probably do.”

  “Ach, well, I guess we learned something about each other today.” She took a small step away since they were clearly still in each other’s personal space.

  He backed up a few steps, putting more distance between him and the paintings. “Come stand beside me.”

  Naomi did and studied the paintings like he was.

  “We’re painting a fall sunset, so it’s no surprise that we both used orange, brighter in the sky and softer as it reflects off of the water.” He pointed to her painting. “You chose a base palette of brown for the grass and lightened up the blades with yellow to make it look plush. I did the same.” Pulling back his hand, he lifted his hat and ran his other hand through his hair. “I’m not an art expert or anything”—he chuckled—“and everyone will always paint a different picture of the same thing.” His expression sobered. “But you and I did one thing exactly the same.”

  Naomi glanced back and forth between the paintings a few times before she noticed it. “Wow,” she said softly. “They both have an overall grayish tint, almost like we whitewashed a watercolor gray over the entire thing.” She looked at him. “I didn’t mean to do that. Did you?”

  “Nee.” He was quiet for a moment. “If I didn’t say so before, danki for sharing your painting with me—the one you left in mei room.”

  She could feel herself blushing as she shrugged. “It’s just unusual to find another Amish person who paints. Thomas thought it was a waste of time, but for me, it was the freedom to dream.”

  Amos frowned. “You were happy when you painted that picture. Hopeful.”

  Naomi managed a smile. “Ya, I was. I didn’t know what it was like to have mei heart broken yet.”

  He looked back at both of their paintings as he pressed two fingers to his mouth, trying to hide a smile. “I know it’s not funny, but there’s no mistake that we both toned down what should have been a beautiful sunset filled with robust colors. It seems to symbolize our unhappiness and lack of hope.”

  “I don’t want to be that person, but I feel stuck.”

  “That’s how I feel too.” He looped his thumbs beneath his suspenders and smiled at her. “I’ve enjoyed painting with you today. Maybe we can keep meeting in the evenings.”

  Naomi smiled, surprised at how much she’d enjoyed the evening and the discussion. “I’d like that. Do you want to keep painting this scene, or go somewhere else?”

  “I think these paintings reflect our emotions. It wouldn’t hurt either of us to see if we can cheer them. Maybe if we bring more color to the canvas, we’ll bring more color to our lives.”

  Naomi locked eyes with him as butterflies swirled in her stomach. There was a small and recognizable hint of joy. She liked Amos. He was handsome and smart, and he shared her passion for painting. But he was emotionally unavailable, and Naomi needed to remember that and keep plenty of distance between them. Just the feel of his hand on hers earlier and his breath on her neck had filled her with pleasure. And that scared her a little.

  Eleven

  Gus was waiting outside the cottage at nine Monday morning. Esther met him at his truck and grimaced at the thought of riding around in the dingy truck with its tasteless bumper stickers. Watch out for the idiot behind me. Honk if a kid falls out. Several others weren’t fit to take up space in her thoughts. She walked to the passenger side and waited for Gus to open her door the way their hired drivers did, then realized that was silly.

  Gus pulled open his own door, the rusty hinges squeaking. The seat moaned when he sat down on the ripped cloth, springs bulging beneath his weight. Esther opened her door, happy to see her seat was intact, and hoisted herself into the truck. She pulled her black cape snug around her shoulders, tucked her chin as she pulled down on the front of her bonnet, then adjusted her sunglasses.

  “Well, if you’re trying to be incognito, I think you pulled it off.” Gus laughed.

  Esther didn’t know what he meant, and his comment was overshadowed by her inability to ignore the odor in the truck.

  “What is that smell?” She looked his way. He was wearing tattered blue jeans, worn-out brown boots, and a red-and-gray checkered shirt that he really should have left untucked. Instead, a brown belt accentuated his drooping belly. She tried to discern if the disgusting smell was coming from him or something in the truck.

  “I don’t smell anything.” Gus’s old truck wasn’t automatic like most cars. He cranked it, then shifted gears from a throttle on the floorboard, and each time, a jerky action followed that caused Esther to bounce forward. She braced her palms against the dusty dashboard.

  They were quiet as they drove away from the house to the main road until Gus finally spoke.

  “So, what did you tell everyone about where I was taking you?” Gus turned to her briefly. Esther was still trying to get her seat belt fastened. After it finally clicked into place, she looked his way.

  “I told Lizzie and Naomi you were taking me to the doctor for a checkup. Lizzie was surprised but glad I was going since she knows how much doctors scare me. And I told them none of our regular drivers were available.”

  “So you lied?” Gus grunted as he shook his head. “High and mighty, your people, always thinking you’re better than everyone else, but you lie just like us regular folks.”

  “I will ask Gott to forgive the lie.” She kept her eyes forward, wanting this day to be over.

  “Yeah, so it’s perfectly okay to tell a premeditated lie, as long as you ask your God for forgiveness later.” He scoffed, which caused the hair on the back of Esther’s neck to stand at attention.

  “He’s not my Gott, He’s everyone’s Gott.”

  “He ain’t my God,” Gus said with provocation, almost as if he was pushing for an argument. Esther had no plans to engage in a conversation about God with Gus. “Cuz if He was, I wouldn’t be driving this old heap and living in a cottage run by a couple of cranky Amish widows.” He paused, cutting his eyes at Esther. “Well, maybe not you, but your sister’s a nut case.”

  Esther fought the urge to engage, but she just couldn’t let it go. “There is a Gott, and maybe you should reach out to Him, but for reasons other than your living situation and the automobile you drive. Perhaps you should pray for things that are more important, like a relationship with Him. Maybe even pray about your dochder.”

  “I don’t want to talk about her.” Gus clamped his mouth shut.

  Esther waited until he turned on a dirt road she knew was a shortcut to the clinic. “Your dochder came. Did you know that?”

  He hit the break, then grinded the gears and turned to her. His bushy eyebrows were drawn into a frown. “She didn’t come.” He turned back to the road.

  “Ya, she did. But she accidently went to Mary and John’s haus. Mary pointed her to the cottage, but the woman went back to her car and just sat there a while. Then she left.”

  “
Good riddance. I don’t need some daughter I don’t even know showing up after all these years.”

  Esther thought about the time and effort Gus had put into tidying up his house and appearance. “Were you married to the girl’s mudder?”

  “Yeah, I made an honest woman out of her since she was knocked up.”

  Esther cringed at his casual admission of something so important.

  He shifted gears again and sped up once they were back on pavement. The truck managed to hit every pothole on the worn blacktop.

  “And she ain’t a girl anymore.” He kept his eyes forward as he spoke. Esther tried holding her breath for short periods since the stench in the truck grew worse when Gus turned on the heater. She breathed a deep sigh of relief when they pulled into the clinic parking lot. Then she began to tremble as she fumbled to undo her seat belt with her arthritic hand that did not want to cooperate.

  Her door flung open and before she knew it Gus’s arm was across her, pressing against her stomach as he snapped the seat belt open. Then he stood back and waited for her to step out of the truck before he slammed the door closed.

  “I don’t need you coming inside with me.” Her heart pounded. She was already worried about running into someone she knew since most of the people in the community used Dr. Elliot. And she certainly didn’t want to be seen with Gus. That would cause more gossip than her being at the doctor.

  “Yeah, I’m going in with you. What if you’ve got cancer or some other horrible disease that’s going to kill you soon?” He paused, finding her eyes. “No one should have to hear that kind of news alone.”

  He could have chosen his words better, but there was something genuine in his eyes, a rarity for Gus. He actually sounded concerned. Shaking her head, she started walking across the parking lot toward the entrance, Gus by her side. When she reached the front door, she stopped, her feet rooted to the concrete pavement. She wasn’t waiting for Gus to open the door for her. She simply didn’t want to go in.

  “You’ve come this far. Might as well get it over with.” Gus reached for the door handle and slowly opened the door.

  Esther stiffened, took a deep breath, then crossed over the threshold. The clinic housed several medical practices, including the dentist where Lizzie had gotten her dental work. When they reached Dr. Elliot’s office, Esther’s heart was racing so hard she worried her blood pressure might be off the chart. She briefly considered just going back to the truck, but for the second time today, Gus opened the door. Esther was happy to see that only two other people were in the waiting room—a mother with a small child on her lap.

  Esther walked up to the window, told the woman her name, and was handed a clipboard with instructions to complete the forms. Gus had already sat down, and as much as she didn’t want to sit next to him, she did. She wondered if she would have the courage to tell him on the way home that he smelled like a garbage dumpster. Or would she be so distraught about what Dr. Elliot said that Gus’s odor wouldn’t matter?

  Her hands shook as she held the clipboard and tried to read the questions, which were blurring together. Her vision played tricks on her these days. She wasn’t sure if it was due to glaucoma or some other ailment. The last time she’d been to the eye doctor was also seven or eight years ago. Lizzie put drops in her eyes daily for glaucoma. Her sister also took medications for high blood pressure and cholesterol. There could be all kinds of things wrong with me. As she had the thought, her hands trembled even more.

  “Good grief. Give me that.” Gus abruptly snatched the clipboard and took the pen from Esther’s hand. “We’re gonna be here all day.”

  He began filling out the paperwork. It was probably just her name, address, and other basic information. Then he turned to her and began asking her a series of questions. “Do you have a pacemaker?”

  Esther shook her head.

  “Ever had any surgeries?” Esther squeezed her eyes closed as vivid recollections flooded her mind, memories she’d tried to forget. She struggled to control her breathing.

  “Mei appendix ruptured when I was a teenager.” The pain had been unbearable, but it was the conversations that had taken place around her that lingered in her mind. She might not make it. She has sepsis. Someone call the bishop.

  “And you lived to tell about it,” Gus said casually without even looking at her.

  He scanned the list, then stopped and scratched his head. “Uh, when . . .” He cleared his throat. “When did you have your last, uh . . . you know?”

  Esther turned to look at him. “I’m not a mind reader, Gus.”

  “You know . . . your lady thing?” Gus’s face turned bright red, and Esther’s was bound to be the same color.

  “Too long ago to remember,” she finally said, wishing she’d just hired a driver and risked the gossip. But Gus didn’t have anyone to tell about their trip—except Lizzie—and they’d made a deal about that. Gus didn’t have any friends, for obvious reasons to everyone who crossed his path. It seemed surreal to have him here at the doctor with her, filling out her paperwork and asking her personal questions about her health.

  After she returned the clipboard to the woman behind the glass, she only had to wait a few minutes before a nurse opened a door and called Esther’s name. She slowly lifted herself up, but her feet didn’t want to move. Gus stood.

  “You are not coming with me.” Esther was shaking from head to toe, but surely Gus knew he couldn’t go in with her.

  He groaned as a muscle flicked in his jaw. “I ain’t going in with you, woman.”

  She decided to overlook the fact that he’d called her “woman.”

  “I-I just wanted to tell you that everything is gonna be okay.” He cast his eyes down as he spoke, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his blue jeans. Esther was unexpectedly touched, and a tiny part of her wanted him to go with her. But she had no idea what kind of revealing tests might be performed, so she merely nodded and walked toward the nurse.

  * * *

  Amos was glad when lunchtime finally rolled around. He’d overslept this morning, missed breakfast, and only grabbed a slice of toast and some bacon on his way out to finish working on the fence. No one had been around when he came downstairs, but a plate had been sitting on the counter with the food. He hoped he hadn’t stolen someone else’s breakfast.

  If he kept up his pace he might finish the fence today and be ready to move on to the next project. He had a list but wasn’t sure what he’d tackle next.

  Inside the house he breathed in the aroma of something heavenly and recognized what he thought might be basil.

  “I hope you like lasagna,” Naomi said when he walked into the kitchen. “I know it’s a bit heavy for lunch, but since you missed breakfast, I thought you might be starving.” She nodded to a large casserole dish already on the kitchen table. It looked as wonderful as it smelled.

  He put his hat on the pegs by the kitchen door. “Ach, I’ve never had lasagna. But it looks and smells delicious.”

  Naomi put her hands on her hips and grinned. “How could you have never had lasagna?” Then her smile faded. “Oh dear. Do you not care for pasta or tomato sauce?”

  Amos closed his eyes and breathed in again before he looked at her. “I love pasta and tomato sauce. Mei mamm only cooks traditional meat-and-potato meals.”

  “Mei mamm did too. But an Englisch friend taught me how to make this a long time ago. I’ve changed it up a bit and made it my own recipe. Lizzie and Esther love it, so I try to cook it every now and then, but usually for supper.”

  “Where are Lizzie and Esther?” Amos’s mouth watered when Naomi placed a salad on the table next to the pasta dish.

  “Lizzie is in the mudroom. She insisted she would run the clothes through the ringer, even though it’s really mei job.” She blew out a breath of frustration. “But it’s hard to argue with Lizzie when she sets her mind on something. Esther actually went to the doctor for a checkup, which strikes me as suspicious.”

  “Why?” Am
os was glad when Naomi finally sat down across from him. His stomach growled.

  “She’s terrified of doctors. I’ve seen her so sick with a cold that I thought it might turn into pneumonia, and she still wouldn’t go to the doctor. I’m wondering if she suspects something is wrong.”

  Amos peeked out the kitchen window. “Her buggy is here.”

  “Ya, I know. Her appointment was in Bedford this morning. It’s too far to travel by buggy.” She sighed. “And she had Gus take her. She said all our drivers were busy, which is even more suspicious. None of us likes to spend any more time with Gus than we have to.”

  “I hope she’s okay.” Amos’s eyes darted back and forth between Naomi and the lasagna. They bowed their heads in prayer, then she served him a large portion of the pasta.

  After he’d swallowed the first bite, he said, “Please don’t ever tell mei mamm this, but this is the best food I’ve ever eaten.” He shook his head. “I’m going to have to marry someone who knows how to cook this.” The moment the words slipped from his mouth, he found Naomi’s wide eyes. He motioned back and forth between them with his hand. “I-I didn’t mean, uh . . . you and me. I mean, I just meant . . .”

  Smiling, she said, “I know what you meant, and that’s a gut sign—that you can even make the statement, even joking. But I’m flattered you like it so much.”

  “‘Like it’ would be a big understatement.” He was glad she hadn’t taken his comment seriously. Sometimes when Naomi looked at him, he thought he saw longing in her eyes, but he wasn’t sure how much of it was longing or grief. Amos confused his own emotions sometimes, so reading hers was only speculation. He was certain of one thing, though. He enjoyed being around her.

  Amos said very little as he devoured his lunch. He even had seconds of the lasagna, wondering if he’d ever get enough.

  “Did Lizzie already eat?” Over half the pan was still full, and Amos was pretty sure he could go another round, maybe a smaller one.

  Naomi laughed. She’d had a small square of the casserole and some salad. “Why? Do you want to eat the entire pan?”