by Amy Lillard
“I, uh, guess we can go then.” He turned back to the lady of the house. “Bye, Abbie.”
“Bye,” she said.
Buddy and Jenna walked out to the tractor. Titus must have brought it around for them while Buddy had been getting ready for his date with Jenna.
He couldn’t believe it. He was taking his girl out on a date. A real date. He helped her up onto the back of the tractor and settled himself down into the seat.
“Ready?” he asked her over one shoulder.
“Jah.” He could hear the smile in her voice. She was as excited and happy as he was.
The trip into town seemed short. Maybe because he was enjoying riding along with her. The tractor motor made conversation hard, so they rode in silence. Though every now and then she would point something out to him on the road. She did this by a touch on his shoulder and a point in the right direction. The smile she had when she shared it with him was worth more than gold.
Buddy got a little nervous when they got into town. He’d driven the tractor down the road and into the fields, but he had never parked it in a space before. He wasn’t exactly sure how to do it.
He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the space at the end of the street. Kauffman’s was right in front of him and the alley to his right. Surely that would be an easier space to park in. He turned the tractor toward the spot, but halfway in, he felt like he was too close to the car sitting next to him on the left. Should he back up? Go forward? Did it matter? One thing was certain; he couldn’t continue to sit where they were, half in the space and half on the street.
“What’s the matter?” Jenna’s words, so close to his ear, sent a little shiver down his back.
“I-uh . . .”
“Are you having trouble?” Someone on the sidewalk in front of Kauffman’s had stopped to make sure they were okay.
Buddy wasn’t sure what he should do. Should he ask the man to help him get in the space? Was that even possible?
“We’re okay,” Jenna called from behind him.
Buddy half turned to see her face.
She smiled and waved at the man, who reluctantly continued down the sidewalk that ran in front of the stores on Main Street.
“What are we going to do?” Buddy asked.
Jenna didn’t answer. She hopped down from the back of the tractor and went to stand on the sidewalk where the helpful man had been just a little bit before.
“Back up a little,” she hollered to him, using hand motions to back up her words.
He put the tractor in reverse, but a horn sounded behind him.
Buddy jumped, then gave a wave to the car that had been behind him. “Sorry,” he called.
Jenna gave a small laugh but looked apologetic. “Be sure to look first.”
“Now she tells me.” Buddy checked behind him, then backed up until Jenna told him to stop.
She continued to give him directions until he was in the space, parked correctly with enough room on his left for the people in the car to get in with ease.
Buddy hopped off the tractor and rushed to the sidewalk to Jenna.
“I did it!” he yelled, so proud of himself.
“We did it,” she corrected.
He wanted to pick her up and twirl her around in a circle but he thought maybe he shouldn’t. Not out on the street and all, right in front of Kauffman’s.
“We did it,” he said, giving her a smile so big it hurt.
She smiled back at him. “We make a pretty good team.”
* * *
They walked into Kauffman’s side by side. Jenna couldn’t stop smiling.
“Just two?” Cora Ann Kauffman was seating the diners. Jenna remembered her from church and guessed that Cora Ann was about sixteen, since she had seen her at the singings.
“Jah,” Buddy answered.
Cora Ann grabbed two menus and two rolls of silverware and walked them through the restaurant. “Here you go.” She placed the menus and napkin-wrapped silverware, one on each side of the table, then stood back so they could slide into the cushioned bench seats. “Rachel will be over in a bit to take your order.”
“Rachel Troyer,” Buddy said, leaning forward as if the information was a big secret. “She’s the minister’s daughter.”
Jenna had met so many people at church and on her trips to town that she was having trouble remembering everyone. But she recognized the minister’s daughter when she came to the table.
Rachel Troyer was a pretty woman with chocolate-colored hair and pretty blue eyes that almost looked purple under the fringe of her dark lashes. “Can I get you something to drink?”
Buddy looked to Jenna. “Do you want a Coke?”
She started to shake her head. Her mother didn’t usually like her to drink things like Coke and sodas, but they were so good. And her mother wasn’t there. “Jah,” she said. “I would love one.” Then she stopped. “If you’re having one,” she said to Buddy.
“Jah,” he said. “Two Cokes.”
“I’ll get those right out. Y’all take a look at the menus, and I’ll be back in a jiff.”
Jenna opened her menu and started reading the items listed there. “What’s good?” she asked. Everything sounded yummy, but she had no idea what to pick.
“There’s the bison meatloaf. And the spaghetti.”
“Is it bison too?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Sounds good.” She looked back at the menu. “What are you having?”
He studied the menu. “Maybe the chicken fried steak.”
“That sounds good too.”
“And their pie,” Buddy said. “People come here just for their pie.”
“I guess I’ll have to save room.” She flipped the menu over so she could read the pie choices.
“I’ve got a better idea,” Buddy said.
She looked at him over the top of her menu.
“Let’s eat pie first.”
She shook her head. “We can’t do that.”
He leaned back in his booth seat. “Why not?”
Why not? The words tumbled around in her mind. Why not? Why not? Why not?
Because her mamm wouldn’t approve.
Because it wasn’t the right thing to do.
It wasn’t what they were supposed to do.
It simply wasn’t how things were done.
“Are you ready to order?” Rachel Troyer stopped at their table, pad and pen in hand.
“Two pieces of apple pie to start,” Buddy said with a confident grin.
Rachel hesitated for a moment, then wrote the words on her notepad. She was left-handed.
“One apple, one pecan,” Jenna corrected, on a quick rush of air. She said the words fast, like she had to get them out before her mother heard.
Rachel scribbled through something and wrote something more on her paper. “One apple, one pecan. That it?”
“For now,” Buddy said. “We’ll want to order our supper afterwards.”
* * *
“Share,” Jenna demanded the moment the dessert saucers hit the tabletop.
Buddy had his fork in his hand, raised and ready to dig into his slice of apple pie. He stared at her.
“Why are you looking at me like I’ve gone crazy?”
“You could have ordered apple pie if you wanted it.”
“But I want to try them both. If you give me half the apple, I’ll give you half the pecan.” She raised her eyebrows as if to prove to him what a good deal it was.
He stopped, leaned back, and pulled the most serious face he could. “What if I don’t like pecan pie enough to give up half my apple pie?”
She put her lips together like she was about to blow the seeds off a dandelion, then shook her head. “You don’t like pecan pie?”
Buddy couldn’t stand it any longer. The laughter rose out of him even as he tried to keep his serious face. “I love pecan pie. I’m just teasing you.”
She shot him back her own serious look. “If I wasn’t Ami
sh . . .” she started.
“Jah, I know. You would punch me in the arm.”
“Maybe worse,” she said.
“Wanna do the same with supper?”
She frowned, obviously not understanding.
“Share,” he said.
“Jah. That’d be good,” she said. “I’ll get the spaghetti and you get the chicken fried steak.”
Buddy smiled. “Deal.”
* * *
“Your plan is not working.” Charlotte moved past Gertie and into her house. Jonathan and Prudy were sitting on the couch playing a game. They stopped when they saw her.
“Jah, jah,” Prudy said. “We know.” They gathered their game and headed out to the porch to play.
“I said it would take time.”
But Charlotte could see the doubt creeping into her eyes. “Do you know where they were last night?”
“No.”
“They went to Kauffman’s to eat supper. Like a date.”
Gertie moved to the nearest chair and sat down. “How do you know this?”
Charlotte propped her hands on her hips. “I have my ways.”
“How am I supposed to believe this?”
“He ordered the chicken fried steak and she ate spaghetti, but they shared both dinners, after they ate their pie first. Would you like to know what kind?”
Gertie shook her head. “What are we going to do?”
Charlotte sat down across from Gertie. “I don’t know. I was counting on your way to work.”
“It still might,” Gertie said hopefully.
“I don’t think we can count on it.”
“I don’t have another. Do you?”
“No.”
Gertie pressed her lips together and Charlotte knew that she was as unhappy about the situation as Charlotte herself. “Then I guess we should start praying this one does.”
* * *
“Buddy! Titus!” Jenna called as she ducked into the barn. “I brought you guys some water.”
Buddy came around the corner first, a smile on his face, she hoped because of her. These last few weeks had been amazing. But truth was, she missed her mother and her mammi. She saw them on church Sundays, and Mammi stopped by from time to time, but other than that she hadn’t seen them. And she missed them. A lot.
“Hey.” He took the water glass from her and gulped it down in three swallows. June in Oklahoma was hot. “Thanks.”
“Where’s Titus? I have one for him too.”
“He’s over in the far pasture. But you can leave it here if you need to get back to the babies.”
Jenna shook her head. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
Buddy took another long drink. “Jah?”
“Abbie gave me the day off.”
He frowned. “A day off?”
“I want to go see my mamm. And my mammi. So she said she and Priscilla could take care of the twins and I could take the tractor and go see them.”
He shook his head. “I don’t want you to go.”
Jenna frowned a bit, then realized what was going on. He was jealous. “It’s okay,” she said. “I’m sure Titus will let you go visit your mamm if you want to.”
“I don’t want to.”
The hard edge in his voice shocked her. “Why not?”
“Because she’ll try to talk me out of coming back, and I don’t want to have to do that to her.”
“You mean yourself.”
“I don’t want you to go.”
“But I want to.” What was wrong with him?
“I’m asking you not to go.”
“But I want to.” How many times did she have to say it?
“If you do, it would be like taking a day off when we get married.”
Jenna propped her hands on her hips. Enough was enough. “There’s just a few things wrong with that sentence. Starting with you’ve never asked me to get married.”
“Why do I always have to ask? I had to ask you to be my girlfriend, even though you knew that you were. And I’ve talked about being married. But I have to ask that too?”
“Jah.” Jenna nodded her head so wildly that she almost lost her balance.
“That’s dumb.”
“Really?” she shot back. “You can ask me not to go see my mamm, but you can’t ask for something important like marrying me?”
“You weren’t listening to me about going, so I asked. You want to get married too. Why do I have to ask about it? We already agreed!”
“I don’t know. You just do! You have to ask. You can’t just believe that I know these things because you’ve thought about it. You have to give me the opportunity to say no.”
“What?” He was yelling now too.
Jenna could see Titus hovering behind Buddy, but she wasn’t about to stop now. Buddy had gone too far. “Jah, and don’t bother asking,” she said as the tears started. “Because the answer is no.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Are you sure about this?” Abbie stopped the tractor in front of the Burkharts’ porch, but Jenna was already climbing down.
“I’ll ask and see if they’ll let me drive over in the morning. Or if one of them will bring me. If they say no . . . I’m sorry.” She shook her head.
“I’m not worried about who’s going to take care of the babies,” Abbie said. “I’m worried about you and Buddy.”
Jenna hoisted her suitcase out of the trailer hitched to the back of the tractor. “There is no me and Buddy.”
“Sweetie, you can’t let one argument blow everything.” Abbie turned off the tractor. Jenna could see her mamm and mammi hovering in the front window.
“He’s being unreasonable.”
“He’s a man. They can make you happy, miserable, laugh, and cry all in the same day. But when you find the right one, you can’t let him go.”
“Then Buddy must not be the right one.” She straightened her shoulders and tossed her head back. “Thanks for everything, Abbie. I guess I might see you in the morning.”
“You’re sure?”
“Jah, I don’t know if they can bring me over or not. So I might see you. I might not.”
“I meant about coming home and staying.”
“Positive.” But her heart was breaking inside. She wasn’t going to admit that she might miss Buddy, but she knew without a doubt she would miss little Carrie and little Nancy. They had become so very important to her in the last few weeks. And Abbie and Titus. Priscilla and Emmanuel. They had all become like family to her.
“I’ll come get the rest of my stuff as soon as I can.”
“No rush,” Abbie said. “If you change your mind . . .” She started the tractor but didn’t finish the sentence.
Jenna nodded and fought back tears. “I won’t.”
She stood in the yard till Abbie was gone. Then she picked up her bag and started up the porch steps. To her right was the swing where she and Buddy had sat on one of their times together. Could she call it a date? She wasn’t sure what to call it other than a fun time that had wriggled its way into her heart. One of her favorite memories.
The door was wrenched open before she could turn the knob. Mamm and Mammi stood there with their arms open to welcome her home.
Thankfully no one asked her anything about the whys of her leaving the Lamberts’ because it was something she didn’t want to answer. She wasn’t sure she knew how to explain what happened, only that Buddy had broken her heart and she wasn’t going back.
“I made all your favorites for supper.” And Mamm had. Yummasetti, fluffy yeast rolls, green beans, and a coconut cake. Well, green beans weren’t her favorite but if she had to eat a vegetable—and she knew that she did—green beans were by far the best.
And of course they had apple sauce, pepper relish, and peanut butter spread.
Jenna ate until she couldn’t eat anymore. She had heard of women who ate when they had a broken heart. Was she one of those types? She didn’t know for certain; this was her first broken
heart.
“We’re so happy to have you home,” Mamm said just before bed. Jenna just nodded. It was happy and sad. Maybe that’s what people meant when they said bittersweet. She was happy to be back in familiar surroundings—her room, her bed, her family. But she was sad to know that she was going to sleep through the night without having to get up and check on babies. That Buddy wasn’t right across the yard in the barn, sleeping in his little room next to the tack room. And when she woke up in the morning she would still be in the familiar surroundings, but Buddy would not be there. And she hated to admit it, but she would miss him. Even if he was acting like a fool over her wanting to come home for a visit.
* * *
Buddy knocked on the door of the main house and let himself in. Of course he wiped his feet first. He and Titus had already milked the camels for their morning milking and stored the milk in the cooler. Buddy had gone back into the barn to clean up while Titus had gone into the house to take a shower.
“Good morning,” Abbie called from the kitchen. She had a large mixing bowl in her hands and her apron was messier than usual.
“Good morning.” The words almost stuck in his throat. What was good about it? Jenna was gone. And she wasn’t coming back. And she was unreasonable. And stubborn. And he loved her, but he wasn’t going after her. She was the one who wanted to go home. Let her be at home.
The words had barely run through his mind than he heard a tractor pull up out front. Or maybe it was a truck, someone coming to get milk. He went to the window and peeked out, only to see Jenna wave to her grandmother as Nadine pulled away.
And before he could even register what that meant, the front door opened and Jenna breezed in.
“Good morning.” She said the words like she meant it, like everything that happened yesterday wasn’t her fault. Like it didn’t matter. Like she hadn’t broken his heart.
“I’m not hungry,” Buddy said. He turned on his heel and brushed past Jenna before marching out the front door. There were some things a man just couldn’t take. And this was one of them.
“Buddy,” Abbie called, but he was gone before she could say anything else.
