by Amy Lillard
He could understand that. “Did you have lots of friends there?”
“No,” she said quietly.
He couldn’t believe his ears. How could a sweet and pretty girl like Jenna Burkhart not have so many friends she couldn’t count them all? “You didn’t? Why not?”
“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “I’m not smart, Buddy.”
“That shouldn’t matter,” he said.
“You have lots of friends?”
He nodded, suddenly feeling very important. “Of course I do. There’s Jonah and Jonathan and Aaron and Hannah.” He ticked them off his fingers one by one.
“They’re your brothers and your sister.”
“And my friends.”
“I don’t have any siblings.”
His heart hurt for her. No brothers. No sisters. No one to turn to if she needed a hug or someone to talk to, no one to share secrets with.
“I’ll be your friend,” he finally said.
“We aren’t already friends?” Her expression crumpled.
“Of course, but I just wanted to say that. You have a friend in Wells Landing.”
She giggled. “You sound like one of those stickers the Englisch put on the back of their cars.”
He laughed right along with her. “I kinda do.”
“Thank you, Buddy.”
“For what?”
“Being my friend.” She pushed the strings of her prayer covering behind her shoulders.
“Thank you for being my friend right back.” He smiled at her as they continued to gently swing back and forth. It was a perfect moment. The wind was blowing slightly, the birds singing in the trees. He was sitting next to the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.
He leaned in a little closer, wanting to be nearer to her. Then before he could chicken out, he swooped in and kissed her on the side of her mouth.
“I’m sorry,” he said immediately after. He scooted away from her, somehow knowing that the best thing to do was put some distance between them. He just didn’t know who needed it the most. He needed to pull away from her to keep himself from kissing her again, and she looked so shocked he thought it best to get out of her reach.
One hand pressed to her lips, she stared at him. “You kissed me.”
“I’m sorry,” he said again.
She remained as she was, hand pressed to her face, eyes wide. He couldn’t tell if she was stunned from disgust or excitement. Girls were hard to figure out.
“You’re sorry?” she asked. Her voice was like a wisp of smoke. It was gone before he even knew it was there.
“I’m sorry.” He jumped to his feet. He was so stupid! How could one man be so stupid? He should have asked her if he could kiss her. He was too impulsive. He always had been. Hadn’t Mamm fussed at him for that very thing nearly every day of his life? The answer was jah. Mamm had done everything she could to teach him to think before he acted. He thought that he had mastered the technique, but one afternoon with Jenna Burkhart and he forgot everything he had learned.
Jenna grabbed his hand, stopped him from racing down the stairs and back to his tractor. “Don’t be sorry. That was the best kiss of my life.”
“Really?” Heat flooded his face, and he wondered if he was a nice shade of pink or blistering red.
She nodded. “Jah.”
He eased back down beside her. “Best kiss . . .”
“Best.”
But . . . “How many other men have you kissed?” There went his impulsive nature again. One day he would learn to think before speaking.
“None. But it was still the best.”
That was all he could ask for. “Mine too.”
“Only?” she asked.
He nodded. “Only and best.”
* * *
Buddy was floating on air. That was a saying. He’d written it in his notebook. It meant that he was so very, very happy. And he was. He had kissed Jenna Burkhart, and it had been the best—and first—kiss for both of them. He had spent the afternoon with her while her mamm and her mammi were at their quilting circle. It had been a wonderful time. They had stayed on the porch in her big swing and talked. Just rocked back and forth and talked about this and that. About church and the singing and a bunch of other things that weren’t important and yet were, all at the same time.
But he hadn’t asked her about dating. He wanted to ask her out, but he knew that he would have to clear that with her mamm. And that would have to wait for another day. He’d been gone from his house for long enough. Now he had to get back home.
Going back, even driving the same way that he had come, was hard. He had to keep remembering that he needed to turn opposite from his trip to her house. He got turned around twice but managed to get himself back on the right track. But it hadn’t taken that long and he was surprised to see his mamm and dat and his brother Jonathan all standing outside in the yard when he pulled up.
He turned off the engine and hopped down from the tractor seat. He was proud of himself. He had driven all the way to Jenna’s house and back again without getting completely lost or having an accident. He was grown-up. Much more than his dat gave him credit for.
“Hi.” He waved at everyone before taking a good look at their faces. They all looked . . . angry. Well, his mamm and dat did. Jonathan looked like he would rather be anyplace else but there.
“Where have you been?” His mother’s voice was shrill, and he thought if she got much louder it would disappear altogether. Like those dog whistles they had at the vet’s office. It was hard for him to believe in something he couldn’t understand, but the dogs went crazy for it, so there had to be something there.
“Jenna Burkhart’s.” Buddy looked from one of them to the other.
“I told you,” Jonathan said. He crossed his arms, but his expression didn’t change. He still looked like he would love to be somewhere else. Anyplace else. Without all them.
“Not now, Jonathan,” his mother said.
“Who gave you permission to take the tractor to the Burkharts’?” Dat pinned Buddy with a look. A very stern, complicated look.
“N-no one,” he stammered. “Why is everyone angry at me?”
“No one knew where you were,” Mamm said.
“Jonathan did.” Buddy gave a nod toward his brother.
“I told them.” Jonathan shifted, but Buddy couldn’t tell if he was upset with only him or just in general.
“You are not supposed to take the tractor out alone,” Mamm said.
He had never driven the tractor alone, but he hadn’t known that he wasn’t supposed to. Only that it was something he hadn’t done yet. And he felt his chances to show his mamm and dat how much he had grown up over the last couple of years slip away. “I didn’t know.”
“You should have asked,” his mamm said.
“Did you purposely wait until we were gone before leaving?” Dat asked.
“No.”
“Are you telling me the truth?” Dat asked.
“Jah.” Kind of, but not really. It had all just worked out that way. He hadn’t wanted to explain why he was going to a girl’s house. It wasn’t because he thought they wouldn’t let him drive. So he was telling the truth. Mostly.
The screen door slammed behind Prudy as she came out onto the porch. “Is Buddy in trouble?”
“Yes,” Mamm said, but at the same time Buddy had answered, “No.”
He turned back to his mamm. “I’m in trouble?”
“You shouldn’t have gone without letting us know where you were,” Mamm said.
“Jonathan knew.” Why couldn’t that be enough? He clenched his fists at his sides as his anger built. He hadn’t done anything wrong. For the first time in his life he had a friend that he wasn’t related to. And he wanted to go see her. What was the harm in that?
“Buddy.” His father’s tone was full of warning, but he was having none of it. This wasn’t fair.
“How can I be in trouble when I didn’t do anything wrong?” Hi
s voice rose on the end until he was almost yelling.
Dat grabbed his arm and shook him a bit. It was something Dat did to make sure he had Buddy’s attention. But Buddy wasn’t up for that today. He pulled away. “Don’t.” He squared off and refused to let his father or mother come close. “You let Prudy do whatever she wants. She slams the screen door all the time and you never say one word to her about it. And I can’t drive the tractor? That is not fair.”
“Maybe not,” Dat said. “But that’s the way it is.”
* * *
That’s the way it is.
Those words echoed in his head as he lay flat on his back in the hayloft. He found his old baseball and was tossing it into the air, doing his best to catch it before it conked him on the nose.
It isn’t fair.
But that’s the way it is.
How could that be? Meeting Jenna, having her move to Wells Landing. Her having had an accident that caused her to be more like Buddy than anyone else . . . It all had to be part of God’s plan. So if it was, why couldn’t everyone else see it?
He pitched the ball into the air and caught it with a soft thwack against his palm.
After he yelled at his dat, he had been grounded, sent to the barn to do chores, and was now wondering if he would ever be able to see Jenna Burkhart again. Church, of course. But that was nearly two weeks away. Twelve days. He could count. People might not believe that he was capable of driving across town alone, but he had finished school—regular school—and he could count. There were twelve more days before he would be able to see Jenna again.
But even then he wouldn’t be able to spend any time with her. His parents thought he was too much of a baby to ride alone, and her mamm didn’t think she needed a boyfriend.
What was wrong with everybody?
He tossed the ball into the air and once again caught it.
“Buddy?”
“Up here.” He had thought about not answering, but what good would it do? Besides. He wanted to talk to Jonah. Maybe he could help Buddy understand. Even better, maybe if he explained it all to Jonah then his brother might help Buddy change their minds about the situation.
Jonah’s head came into view at the top of the ladder, but he didn’t crawl up any farther. “Wanna come down and talk?”
Again the ball went up into the air. Again it thwacked against his palm. “Can I stay here instead?”
“You still want to talk?”
Buddy tossed the ball and nodded his head.
“Okay, but you have to stop throwing that ball. It’s making me dizzy.”
Buddy tossed it one last time but missed it on the way down. It crashed into his nose with an eye-watering crunch. “Ow!”
“Are you okay?” Jonah came up another rung on the ladder.
Buddy pushed himself into a sitting position, then wiped at his nose and checked his fingers. There was blood, but not much of it. “I guess,” he said. But he tilted his head back just to be sure.
Jonah handed him a bandana.
“Thanks.” Buddy wiped his fingers, then held the cloth to his nose.
“I heard what happened.”
“They are so not fair.”
“I know.”
“And they let Prudy get away with everything.”
“I know.”
“And that’s not fair.”
“It’s not always fair, Buddy.”
“It’s supposed to be,” Buddy countered.
“Scoot over.” Jonah shooed Buddy to one side as he climbed up into the loft next to him. “I want to tell you a story.”
Buddy nodded, then waited for Jonah to begin.
“Do you know what my most vivid memory is?”
“No.”
“Being at the hospital after you were hit by a car.”
“I wasn’t ever hit by a car.”
“You were,” Jonah said. “Broke your leg in two places.”
Buddy shook his head, unable to find the memories. “I never broke my leg.” He’d broken his arm once. The pain was incredible. If he had done something like break his leg, surely he would remember that.
“You did. I was six or seven and you were about two. Maybe a little older. I had gone across the street to check the mail.”
“Then you should have gotten hit by the car.”
“Maybe, but I was older and knew to look both ways. I told you to wait on this side of the road for me.”
“But I didn’t.”
“Nope. Ran right out in the road.”
“And broke my leg,” Buddy said in wonder. How was he only now hearing this story?
Jonah nodded. “But you didn’t just break your leg. You also hit your head. It knocked you out for a couple of minutes.” He blew out a breath with the memory. “Mamm was so upset.”
“Because I’d hurt myself?”
“Jah, but also at me for putting you in danger.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The doctor told Mamm and Dat that you could have really hurt yourself badly. Maybe even died. You were lucky to get out of it with a concussion and a broken leg.”
“How’s that your fault?”
“I was supposed to be watching you.”
Buddy frowned. “That’s not fair.” Then he caught himself and pointed at his brother. “Ah, you got me.”
Jonah pointed a finger back at him. “It’s not always fair.”
“But . . .” Buddy started, but he didn’t know how to finish. “Jenna Burkhart,” he finally said.
“What about her?”
“I went to see her this afternoon. I went to see her mamm about why she says we can’t date.”
Jonah grinned. “You want to date a girl?”
“I surely don’t want to date a boy,” he joked.
“I would hope not,” Jonah said. “And stop calling me Shirley.” This last they both said at the same time.
They sat that way for a moment, smiles on their faces, just being together.
Then Jonah spoke. “Just give Mamm time. She’s always been afraid that you would get hurt. That you didn’t have the brain power to keep yourself safe.”
“But I do,” he protested.
Jonah nodded. “I know that, and you know that. It just might take Mamm and Dat a little longer to figure it all out.”
* * *
“You’re awfully happy this evening.” Mamm handed the bread basket to Mammi and gave Jenna a questioning look.
“I am?” She tried to stop smiling, but it just wasn’t possible. She had been more than happy to see Buddy. What a great surprise. And to know that he had come over to talk to her mamm about the two of them . . . that made it all better. Once Mamm saw what a terrific man Buddy was, then she couldn’t protest to the two of them courting. How could she?
But until she could convince her mother of that, she needed to keep his visit to herself. She didn’t want Mamm to have any more things to hold against him.
“I suppose.” She did her best to make her smile smaller. Even just the tiniest bit, but she didn’t think she succeeded. Mostly because Mamm and Mammi continued to look at her as if she had totally gone crazy. Like Daniel Weaver, who lived at the end of their lane in Yoder. His family finally had to come get him. He was walking around the yard in his underwear and button-down shirt, a dog leash in one hand and an ice cream scoop in the other. There were no dogs or containers of ice cream anywhere near. She was fully dressed, not carrying anything strange and was seated at the supper table. Yet that was the look they were giving her.
“We had a really good meeting this afternoon,” Mamm said. Jenna could feel her mamm’s gaze on her, almost like a touch as she watched her. Jenna tried to look interested but not overly so. Once again she did her best to tone down her smile and it all felt a little weird, kind of like she had borrowed someone else’s body, but not really. Because that wasn’t possible. “You should be sad you missed it.”
Jenna scooped up a bite of potatoes and popped it into her mouth. “I
am. I love the quilting circle.”
“I know,” Mamm said. “And don’t talk with your mouth full of food.”
“Jah, Mamm.” But by then she had shoveled in a bite of peas. She had a feeling she needed to eat and get out of the kitchen as quickly as possible. Mamm seemed to know that something was going on and was determined to find out what. Jenna knew some of it could be her own imagination, but how much of it was anybody’s guess.
“Honestly, Jenna Gail. You are supposed to be a young lady, and sometimes I feel like you are a rowdy little boy deep inside there.”
“Jah, Mamm.” She took a big gulp of water, trying to wash down the too-big bite of food she had just put into her mouth.
“For pity’s sake,” Mamm fussed. “I can see that you want to leave the table, but please don’t choke to death trying to accomplish that.”
“Yes, Mamm.”
“Charlotte.”
Jenna and her mamm both turned as Mammi spoke. She didn’t say much these days. Not like she used to. But Jenna couldn’t blame her. She had lost her son, then her husband. Somewhere in all that, Jenna’d had her accident. Mammi’d had a lot to deal with over the last few years. But these days she just didn’t seem to be happy. And more than anything, she prayed for her grandmother to have happiness. For that sparkle to return to her eyes.
“Jah?” Mamm asked.
“Leave the girl alone. She has enough trouble without you staying on her all the time.”
Jenna knew that meant to fuss at a lot. She looked to Mamm.
She was starting to turn a shade of purple that Jenna had never seen before. In all honesty she wasn’t sure why Mamm and Mammi stayed with each other. It certainly wasn’t out of love. And Mammi had other children she could have gone to live with after Dawdi had died, but she and Mamm had moved in together and it had been that way ever since.
“I should leave her alone?” Mamm asked.
Mammi nodded. “That’s right. She’s a good girl and she knows what’s right and what’s wrong. You grounded her from the meeting tonight. There’s no need to rub it in that she didn’t get to go.” She turned to Jenna. “Next week,” she said. “Everyone will expect you to be there next week.”
“Jah,” Jenna said with a nod. “I plan on it.”
