by Amy Lillard
How were they supposed to form any sort of relationship when she couldn’t even decide when and where she got to drink coffee? They weren’t. That was the truth in it all. They weren’t supposed to have any sort of relationship because their folks thought they weren’t ready. That they would never be ready.
How could she grow up if no one would let her? She wanted more than the life she had now. She wasn’t sure exactly what it was she wanted. Just more.
She watched Buddy walk out with his mamm. He left without his chocolate cake. Suddenly she wanted to make that cake for him. If it was his favorite he should be able to have it all year long. Esther’s had Christmas cookies all year. Why not chocolate cake?
But more than that . . .
She heard the bell behind her chime as she approached the counter. Her grandmother was back, but Jenna was not to be deterred.
“Esther,” she called, then smiled as the woman turned around. “I changed my mind. I want a coffee after all.”
* * *
He got to see her today. He had been wondering when he might see her again next, and in all his figuring the only time that was certain was next Sunday at church. Tomorrow was the off Sunday and he hadn’t heard any talk about visiting or having visitors, so he supposed they were spending a quiet day at home.
What did he expect? His mamm was mighty upset with him over taking the tractor. Jonah’s words came back to him. Mamm didn’t think he had the brainpower to keep himself from getting hurt. How could she not see that he did?
He checked the mail all the time these days. He had for years. He could plow a field using the same tractor everyone else in his family used. He could take care of the animals, heat up soup, and wash a load of clothes if he had to. He only knew this last one because he had gotten red drink all over his new white church shirt. After Mamm had told him he couldn’t have any of the red drink and that he should change his clothes. He had done neither. And so that was the day Hannah had shown him how to wash a load of clothes. See? He knew a lot of things.
But him knowing it and Mamm knowing it were two different things. Tuesday was the quilting circle meeting again. With any luck, Jenna would stay home, and he could come visit. He wished he could get word to her that he had a plan, but he wasn’t sure how he would be able to do that. And he had other things to worry about. He had three days to convince his mamm that he had enough brainpower to be able to go to Jenna’s house by himself and take the tractor. He just wished he had a plan for that as well.
Chapter Eight
“What are you doing?”
Mamm came into the kitchen on Monday morning, still wiping sleep from her eyes. Or maybe she was rubbing them in disbelief. It was hard to tell with all the smoke in the room between them.
“Making breakfast.” He grinned at her over one shoulder, then turned his attention back to the bacon in the pan. This batch was coming out better than the first pan, though it was still speckled with little bits of black that he figured was from that first attempt at frying. It had only taken one pan of bacon to figure out that he had the heat up too high. The coffee was ready, but it was a little strong. He’d tried adding water, but it hadn’t helped. Now he just had to figure out how to make the biscuits and fry the eggs.
“Why?” Mamm asked, waving a hand in front of her face as she came closer.
“I wanted to do something for you.”
Mamm nodded. She smiled, then her lips pressed together as she picked up a piece of the first batch of bacon. It was as black as the pan he had fried it in, but he had tasted it and it wasn’t so bad. It could be eaten.
“How do I make biscuits?” he asked, flipping the bacon. This was a goldeny-brown color and looked more like what Mamm served every morning, even with the little flecks of black on them. Those sort of looked like pepper.
Mamm shook her head. “Biscuits have to be started first. They’ll never be done in time now. Everything else will be cold.”
“Oh.” Buddy’s mood fell a notch, but he could still make this right. “Toast?”
She nodded. “Get the bread and the cookie sheet.”
He moved to do as she said and as soon as he was out of the way, she stepped up to the stove.
“No.” He moved back in front, blocking her from touching the frying pan. “I’m cooking breakfast.”
“Smells like you’re cooking more than food.” Prudy came into the room, her sass and spunk already in place.
“Buddy.” Mamm pulled him away from the stove and spun him around.
“What?” He tried to see his back, but it was impossible. He knew that before he tried, but he tried anyway.
She swatted at a spot at his waist.
“Wassgoing on?” Aaron was awake, standing in the doorway to the kitchen. Behind him stood Jonathan.
“Buddy’s on fire,” Prudy happily chirped.
“What?” Buddy jumped and turned in a circle. “Where?”
“It’s out now. But the bacon . . .” Prudy pointed to the stove.
The pan of bacon was smoking, adding more smoke to that already floating in the kitchen.
“Buddy.” Mamm snatched up a potholder and moved the bacon onto the back of the stove away from the heat. She deftly flipped off the gas and turned back to Buddy. “I think your cooking time has come to an end.”
“But—”
She shook her head.
Prudy giggled behind her hand, but Buddy wasn’t going to let that make him angry. He had tried, and that was more than anyone else in the room could say, not counting Mamm, of course. She cooked every day.
“I just wanted to—”
“Buddy.” Mamm patted him on the cheek while Jonathan and Aaron padded away. Prudy climbed up into one of the chairs and propped her elbow on the tabletop, her chin in her hand. “Thank you for your effort. Go on and get dressed. I’ll make some oatmeal.”
“I am dressed,” he said.
“You burned the back of your shirt,” Prudy informed him.
“I did?” Once again he tried to see behind him even though he knew he couldn’t.
“Jah.” Mamm nodded. “Go change your shirt. We can talk about this after we eat.”
Talk about it? That sounded like more trouble. He didn’t want trouble. He was trying to show her how much of a grown-up he was. Instead he had burned up a whole package of bacon and cooked a hole in his shirt. “Jah, Mamm,” he mumbled, then turned to go.
He no sooner got to the door than Prudy chirped from behind him. “You might want to change your trousers too. You melted those.”
* * *
No one said a word about his early morning kitchen disaster as they ate their oatmeal and toast half an hour later. Prudy squirmed in her seat as if she had more than she could deal with, and Buddy figured Mamm had warned her not to say anything lest she herself be in trouble. That was a first, seeing as how Prudy pretty much got to do everything she wanted.
Dat didn’t say anything either. He was in the barn when Buddy had tried his hand at cooking, so Buddy figured Mamm had told him what had happened.
So aside from the silent breakfast, everyone kept giving him looks as they all ate without a word.
He had tried, he told himself. He had tried to do something that none of them did, and he would not be sorry or embarrassed. No matter how many times they looked at him, then let their gazes drift away like they hadn’t been looking at all.
“Prudy,” Dat said, after the after-meal prayer. “You can start the dishes.”
“But—”
Dat shot her a look that stopped her, mid-sentence.
“Jah, Dat.”
“In here, Buddy.” Dat pointed toward the living room. What could he do but obey? Mamm followed behind him and then Dat behind her.
Buddy settled down on the couch and waited for them to sit down as well. He should have known that he was going to be in trouble. Aside from the bacon, he had ruined his shirt, his fabric suspenders, and his trousers. And all because he wanted to show them how
grown-up he was. He had done the exact opposite. At the rate he was going he would never be able to drive to Jenna’s house on his own. And he would never be able to show her mamm how deserving he and Jenna were of being able to date. Never ever never.
“What’s going on with you?” Dat asked.
Buddy looked to his father and tried to find the words for what he needed to say. “I like a girl.” Those weren’t exactly what he had thought would be best, but he had said them anyway.
“I told you.” Mamm poked Dat in the side.
He smacked her hand away without looking and continued to stare at Buddy. “You like a girl.” It wasn’t quite a question.
“Jenna Burkhart.”
“The new girl.” His mamm’s words were spoken to his dat. Again Dat didn’t turn, just kept staring at Buddy.
“Is she why you thought it would be a good idea to cook breakfast?” Dat asked.
Buddy nodded. “I wanted to show you that I’m grown-up. I want to see her, and I have to prove that I can handle it.”
Dat frowned and Buddy had a feeling he was only making sense to himself. “You wanted to show us that you can handle having a girlfriend?”
“Jah.”
Once he said the word, his mamm and dat shared a look. Buddy had no idea what it meant, but he wasn’t sure he liked it.
“Buddy,” Dat started. “Is Jenna Burkhart the girl who was injured in a car accident or something?” His voice was gentle and for some reason rubbed against Buddy’s nerves. That was a saying. He had it written in his notebook, though he couldn’t remember exactly who had explained it to him. He did remember that it meant that something was really bothering him, and it was the best way he had to describe his father’s tone of voice and vague expression.
“Or something,” Buddy answered. He did his best to keep his tone down, but it was creeping upwards.
“I think it was a swimming accident,” Mamm said.
“Whatever it is,” Dat said. “She’s . . .” He searched for a word.
“Don’t say special,” Buddy said. His voice held a hard edge, but either his dat didn’t notice or wasn’t ready to address it.
“How would you have me describe her?”
“You can say she’s beautiful,” Buddy said, his hands twisting in his lap. How had this conversation gotten here? “She’s sweet and honest and one of the nicest people I’ve ever met.”
Dat nodded. “Jah,” he said. “Okay. But she’s not . . .” Dat did his search again. But Buddy didn’t want to hear it. He slammed his hands over his ears to block out his father’s words, but it was his mother who spoke.
“Normal,” Mamm said. “She’s not normal.”
Buddy stood, dropped his hands from his ears. That wasn’t helping in blocking out the words he didn’t want to hear. Instead he curled his fingers into fists and did his very best to control his building emotions. “What is normal?” he said. “I’m not normal.” Saying the words was unexpectedly freeing. He felt lighter than he had in a long time. “I’m not normal. I’m not normal.” He had been spending his entire life trying to be like everyone else. He was proud that he had gone to school with all the other kids. It might have taken him a little more time to finish, but he hadn’t gone to a special school. He was always working toward being like everyone else. He hadn’t realized it until now. He didn’t want to be like everyone else. He wanted to be like him. “And I don’t want to be normal.”
“Sit down, Buddy.”
He plopped back into his seat out of habit. His mother told him to do something and he did. He always did. “I’m only sitting down because I want to,” he said, daring either one of them to say differently. They didn’t. Good.
“I’m not normal,” he said once more just for good measure.
“It’s okay not to be normal, Buddy,” Dat said.
“And it’s okay that Jenna is not normal either,” Mamm continued. “But it’s not okay if two people like the two of you think that they can have everything everyone else has.”
Buddy frowned. He wasn’t sure he followed all of that, but to say so would have proved their point, he was sure, so he said nothing.
“We’ve talked to Jenna’s mother and she agrees with us,” Mamm said.
Buddy sat up a little straighter. “Agrees with you about what?”
Mamm reached out and squeezed his hand. It was the first clue that he wasn’t going to like what was coming next. “We don’t think you and Jenna should get too close.”
He was on his feet in an instant. “I want to get close to her.” Didn’t they understand?
“Sit down, Buddy.” This time from Dat.
But he wasn’t budging. Instead he crossed his arms and widened his stance. “I will not.”
His father blinked once and for a split second Buddy thought he had made the biggest mistake of his life, then a look of peace overtook his father’s expression. “Okay then, stand up. But hear us out.”
They were sitting on either side of him, so if he was going to storm from the room it would have to be over and across the coffee table. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for a scene like that. Plus he didn’t think he could step all the way over. That meant stepping on the coffee table. Since Mamm didn’t like them to put their feet on the top of it, he was pretty certain she wouldn’t want him to walk across it either. So for now he would stay where he was.
“Talk,” he finally said.
“I know that you think you have feelings for her,” Mamm started. “But it’s because she’s the only person, other than Daniel Kauffman and James Riehl, that you’ve ever met who’s like you.”
“I know. That’s why I want to be with her.”
“Because you are alike?” Mamm asked.
Buddy nodded.
“That’s why you can’t be together.”
Buddy shook his head. “That doesn’t make any sense.” He sank back into his seat and tried to sort through it all.
“The two of you . . .” his mother started. Then she looked to his dat.
“It’s not safe for the two of you to be together.”
“Not safe?” Buddy asked.
“That’s right,” Dat said. “You think about it, and you’ll see what we’re saying is true.”
He didn’t know how he would ever agree, but he had to listen for now. This morning’s bacon incident hadn’t helped any, but he wasn’t giving up. He couldn’t.
“Do you understand?” Mamm asked.
Buddy nodded and stood, though he didn’t understand at all. But he would pretend to until he could find out what he had to do to prove to his parents that he and Jenna more than belonged together. They were all part of God’s plan.
* * *
Jenna smoothed a hand over the skirt of her new dress and looked across the room, hoping to catch Buddy’s gaze. Instead she caught that of his dat.
She looked away. It had been a week since she had seen him at the bakery. She had hoped that he would drop by sometime during the week, but he hadn’t. Unless he came by on Tuesday evening, expecting her to be there and her mamm and mammi gone to quilting circle. But they had insisted that she go too, and she couldn’t refuse without raising their suspicions.
Now they were back to church Sunday and she could feel that something had changed. She wasn’t sure what it was. Had Buddy decided that he didn’t like her anymore? Or maybe she had imagined his affection. She thought about their game of Candy Land and holding hands and their kiss . . .
No, she decided. It wasn’t that he didn’t like her. Something else had happened.
And she was going to have to wait until after the church meal before she would be able to talk to him and find out what it was.
That seemed like an eternity. They had prayer and preaching, then they sang, had more preaching, more singing, and more prayers, until finally she was serving lemonade to the men.
“Can I have a cup of that?”
“Buddy.” Her voice was like a whisper. She had been waiting so long
to talk to him that now that the opportunity was there, she wasn’t sure what she should say.
“Hi.” He lifted his empty cup.
“Oh,” she said, and poured some lemonade for him. “Sorry.”
“I like your dress,” he said.
She blushed at the compliment. “Thank you. It’s new.”
“I know.” His gaze met hers and she felt like she might be able to fall into his honey-colored eyes. “I’ve been wanting to come talk to you,” he said.
Her heart felt suddenly light once again. He had wanted to see her. “I’ve been wanting you to come too.”
He smiled, and she was certain it was the best sight she had ever seen.
“My mamm and dat,” he started. He didn’t need to finish. She could figure it out from there. Her brain might be weak, but she wasn’t completely stupid.
“That’s okay.”
“Do you think you could meet me this week?” he asked.
“Where?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
“How am I going to get there?” Her mammi might take her to meet Buddy, but she was pretty sure her mother wouldn’t agree.
“I don’t know that either.”
How were they ever going to work this out? “Can you call me?” she asked. She said the words as quietly as possible. There was a line forming behind him and the fewer people who knew what they were talking about the better.
“At the phone shanty?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Okay.” He held his paper cup out for a refill, then once he had more he moved away. Jenna filled the next person in line’s cup, but her mind was on a blond-haired boy who was going to call her, and the thrill she felt all the way to her toes.
