by Amy Lillard
* * *
Jenna watched Buddy walk out and knew that what she had done was wrong. But she had been thinking about Abbie and Priscilla and how much help they needed with the twins. She had wanted to take some of that burden as she had promised, but it seemed that might not be the best idea.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “It was wrong to come here. I thought it was right but I was wrong.”
“What’s going on?” Titus came down the stairs as Jenna turned in a circle, trying to decide what she should do next. Buddy wasn’t going to eat and all because of her.
“I’m going home.” She started for the front door.
“Jenna, you can’t just leave.” She thought it was Priscilla who said that.
“You got a tractor?” That was Emmanuel.
Great. She had disturbed everyone. Why had she come here today? She should have stayed home. She should have never made this play for independence. It had been fun while it lasted, but it was over now.
“Jenna.”
“Jenna.”
“Jenna.”
Everyone called after her but she kept going.
Once she was in the yard she wasn’t sure what to do. She didn’t have a way to get home. She could walk, but it was a ways back to her house. What other choice did she have? Mammi wouldn’t come back until after three. And she had no other way to get back home.
“Jenna.”
She turned at the sound of her name to find Titus coming out of the house. “You don’t have to leave.”
She shook her head. “I do too.” She had to get out of there before the tears that threatened overtook her and she embarrassed herself beyond saving.
“I’ll drive you.”
“Thank you.” She waited while he went into the barn to get the tractor. “I’m sorry,” she said a few minutes later when he had brought the tractor around. “I’m interrupting your breakfast.”
He smiled at her. A great smile but not as heart-fluttering as Buddy’s. “It’s okay. I’ll grab something when I get back home.” He ducked his head a bit and gave her a look. “Unless you want to change your mind.”
She wanted to change her mind all right, but she couldn’t. This whole thing had started and she had to see it through. “No,” she said. “Take me home, please.”
* * *
“Jenna?” Her mother asked as she walked in the front door. “What are you doing here?”
“I live here?” It was a poor attempt at a joke, but she had to make it before she started crying. She had managed to hold back her tears all the way home. Even when Titus gently told her that she was important to his family and she was always welcome to come back. To work. For a visit. Anything she needed.
Now her mamm.
“Jenna.” Her mamm’s voice took her broken and battered heart and splintered it. She didn’t want Mamm feeling sorry for her.
Jenna held up her hands. “I need to go rest.”
Mamm’s forehead pinched with worry, but she nodded.
And just in time. Jenna’s tears started to fall as she raced up the stairs. They didn’t stop for a long, long time.
* * *
Buddy managed to pull himself together and get to work. He had just been surprised, that’s all. He hadn’t expected Jenna to be there in the main house this morning. She had left the day before, and seeing as how her mother never wanted her to have the job, he figured it was over. The only time he would have to worry about seeing Jenna was church. He had days before he had to figure that one out.
“I’m sorry about this morning,” he told Titus as they started brushing the camels. It might be almost summer, but the camels were still shedding their winter coats.
“It’s all right,” Titus said. “Are you okay?”
He nodded, even though he wanted to go to his room, throw himself across his bed and cry. He was afraid if he did that he might not ever stop.
No. He needed to keep his normal, and normal for him now was helping Titus with the camels. His dat didn’t think he could be responsible. And he was. This was about more than Jenna. She might have been part of the beginning of it, but she wasn’t going to be a part of the end.
He stopped brushing, pulled the clumps of hair from the brush, and patted Jewel on the neck. They were beautiful, these wonderful animals that God had created. They had varying colors in their coats and long eyelashes that looked almost comical. Titus had told him their eyelashes were so long to protect their eyes from the desert sand. There wasn’t much desert around them now, but he was still glad they had them. For some reason he thought it made them even more beautiful.
“You should probably give PJ a good brushing today,” Titus said. He finished up with Eileen and sent both camels out into the back property. They were good for all sorts of things, including eating brush and thistles. Tomorrow these two would be milked and then taken over to a farm near Taylor Creek to help a farmer clean up a field for planting. The milk was real good money, but leasing them out for farm help was very profitable as well.
“And a bath,” Buddy added. He tried to keep PJ clean, but the pup seemed to get into everything.
“You wash that dog more than you wash yourself.”
Buddy laughed. “I don’t get into as many messes.”
“You got me there.” Titus clapped him on the back in a way that made Buddy feel proud. Proud to have taken on this job, proud to be friends with Titus. They were friends because they worked together and liked each other. Not because they were related.
“We’re friends, right?” Buddy asked as they made their way, side by side, to the tack room. They hung up their brushes, that chore complete for the day. They would probably have to give the camels daily brushing for another week or so, then they could do it less, Titus had told him.
“Jah. Of course we’re friends.”
“Okay. I was just checking.” He had just lost the best friend he’d ever had. He needed to know he had a few people out there who were still on his side.
* * *
“Jenna, honey, aren’t you hungry?”
“No.” She didn’t bother to lift her head when she answered. She probably couldn’t have anyway. Her whole body hurt. She felt like she had been run over by a train. That might be exaggerating just a little, but she did feel bad. And she didn’t know why.
She had come upstairs after she got home and dropped her suitcase on the floor. Then she’d lain down and hadn’t been up since. She had eaten breakfast, but no lunch, and she really didn’t want any supper either.
“Come down,” her mamm urged. “There’s some cake left. The coconut one. Your favorite.”
Cake. She might not want to eat any supper, but a piece of cake might be just the ticket to get her back to herself. Jah. Because it was her favorite. And her mamm made it. And it would help her feel better if nothing else.
She pushed herself up in her darkened room. It wasn’t that the sun had gone down, but because her room was on the west side of the house. She got all of the sun in the afternoon, so they had installed black-out shades to help keep the room cool. She was glad because she had used them to keep out the sun. The world.
“Okay.” She wiped at her eyes but there were no tears. She had cried herself out hours ago.
“We could eat some supper and then play a game. Would you like that?”
“No supper.” Only cake.
“But—”
“Cake.”
“Okay,” Mamm said. “Tonight you can have cake, tomorrow you have to eat real food. Deal?”
Jenna nodded. She wasn’t sure what tomorrow would have for her, but at least it satisfied her mother.
She would eat cake and play whatever game her mother thought she might enjoy, but once she’d had enough she was coming back upstairs. To her room. In the house she shared with her mamm and mammi. Right where she belonged.
* * *
“We’ve got to do something.” Charlotte pushed past Gertie and into the Miller house.
“Charl
otte, so good to see you. Why don’t you come on in? Sure. No trouble.”
“This is not the time for jokes, Gertie Miller. This is serious.”
Gertie led the way to the living room. Prudy, the youngest Miller, was coloring, crayons spread around and tongue in the corner of her mouth.
She looked up and saw them when they came into the room. She gave an oversized sigh and started gathering her things. “Jah. Jah. I know.”
Gertie waited until Prudy was gone, before addressing Charlotte. “You got what you wanted, jah?”
“Well, jah, but it’s not good.”
“What do you mean it’s not good?” Gertie sighed.
“Jenna Gail won’t get out of bed. All she will eat is coconut cake. It’s out of control.” The whole situation was frustrating.
“It’s only been a couple of days.”
“That’s long enough,” Charlotte said. She collapsed onto the couch. “What are we going to do?”
“We?”
“You helped get us to this point. You need to help us get past it.”
Gertie came around and sat on the edge of the chair next to Charlotte. “I don’t understand. You wanted them broke up. They’re broke up. What’s the problem?”
“I told you. Jenna won’t eat or get out of bed. It’s tragic.”
“Give her some time. She’ll get over him. This is what you wanted.”
“Not exactly.” Charlotte pushed herself up in the seat. “I didn’t want her like this.” She had only thought about protecting her. She hadn’t thought it would hurt her in the process.
“Be careful what you wish for . . .” Gertie said.
“What?”
Gertie shook her head. “Something my mammi used to say.”
“What do we do now?”
Gertie stood and urged Charlotte to do the same. “We give it time.”
“Isn’t that what you said last time?”
“Jah, and it worked, didn’t it?”
“Uh . . . sort of. I mean, I guess. It’s just—”
“Give it time,” Gertie said, walking her toward the door.
“And that’s all?” Charlotte asked. “Really?”
“Promise.” Gertie opened the front door and indicated that she should go out onto the porch.
Charlotte stepped out. “Okay.” She turned to Gertie. “If you’re—”
The door was closed in her face.
“Sure.”
With nothing left to do, Charlotte made her way to her tractor. If they were going to give this time, she had another coconut cake to make.
* * *
She was going to have to go this alone. There was no way around it. Charlotte made her decision, told Nadine her plan, and headed over to the Lamberts’ farm.
Her first thought upon pulling up into the yard was that she could understand why Jenna Gail had been happy staying there. The farm was pristine, with fenced-off pastures and pecking chickens, even the cutest gold-colored puppy that completed the scene.
He came out of the barn, bounding with tail wagging and pink tongue lolling out one side of his mouth.
She bent at the waist and gave him a couple of affectionate pats on the head. But it seemed it wasn’t enough for the beast. He followed her all the way up to the porch. Stayed with her as she knocked on the door.
“Shoo,” Charlotte said. But the pup grabbed ahold of the skirt of her dress and pulled.
“Nice puppy.” She tugged on her dress, but that seemed to be something that he wanted. He growled and pulled harder.
Maybe whoever was on the other side of the door and not answering her summons would be able to save her from the creature. He hadn’t been this persistent the last time she was here.
“Hello?” she called and knocked again.
The puppy pulled harder, growled louder.
Why hadn’t she spent more time with dogs? Maybe she would know a little more about them. And she would know what to do with this one tugging on her skirt.
She pounded on the door and pulled at the same time. And two things happened. Her skirt gave away with a resounding ripping noise and the door opened to reveal a young blond-haired woman holding a crying baby. Maybe that’s why no one answered.
“Charlotte?” the young woman said.
“Jah?” She looked from the blonde to the pup, who was now bounding off the porch with the lower hem of her dress.
“Oh, my!” The young mamm rushed out the door and down the stairs, baby still cradled against her and still crying. “PJ, get back here!”
But the dog had other plans. He raced under the fence rails and into the pasture where other, even more interesting beasts grazed.
“Are those . . . ?” They certainly looked like them, and she had learned early on in life that if it looked like a duck and quacked like a duck, and walked like a duck, then it was most likely a duck. Or in this case, a camel.
“I am so sorry.” The woman came back onto the porch, baby still screaming despite her efforts to soothe her. “I would offer to mend your dress for you, but I’m afraid that if PJ has it, it’s gone. We’ve lost a lot of blankies that way.”
Charlotte could barely hear her over the sound of the baby’s wails. “What’s wrong with her?”
The woman—Charlotte really wished she could remember her name; she must have met her at church and surely Jenna had said her name a couple dozen times, but it escaped her now—held the baby close and did what she could to comfort the child, but it wasn’t enough. She continued to cry and cry and cry and cry.
Was it Allie? Maybe Ellie . . .
“Jenna,” the woman said.
Abbie.
“Jenna is responsible for this? She hasn’t been here in days.”
“That’s the problem. This is Nancy, and she’s the particular twin. And she loves Jenna.” Abbie gave a tired shrug. “Seems she just likes Jenna more than she likes the rest of us.”
“The other twin?” Charlotte asked.
“Inside sleeping peacefully.”
“Does this one sleep?”
Abbie kissed the top of the baby’s head. “Not nearly enough.” Which explained the dark smudges under her eyes.
But . . .
Charlotte had come here to ask, beg if she had to, and get Jenna’s job back. There was no way her daughter would be able to make up with Buddy if she was at her house and he was here.
“So you would be open to Jenna coming back to work?”
“Open?” Abbie looked as if she might fall at Charlotte’s feet. “I never wanted her to go. But I couldn’t ask for her to come back. I wouldn’t want to put her in that sort of spot with Buddy.”
“May I?” Charlotte motioned toward the baby. She wasn’t sure what she could do, but she felt the need to do something.
Abbie handed her the child, but there was no change in the volume of her screams.
“I think it would be good to get her and Buddy back on the same farm again.”
Abbie nodded. “We would love that, of course, but I can’t ask her to come back. Not even with poor Nancy crying night and day.”
“You want her to come back?”
“Jah, of course.”
Charlotte handed the baby over to its mother. The crying was beginning to make her ears ring. “You just leave everything to me.”
* * *
Jenna scraped her fork through the smudge of white frosting and made little patterns with the prongs. Coconut cake. Her favorite. Her mother had made two since her breakup with Buddy, but neither one, or the half-one they already had on hand, had helped her get over him.
Sometimes there just wasn’t enough coconut cake in the world to heal a broken heart.
She thought she heard the tractor outside but wasn’t positive until her mother came breezing through the front door.
“Where’s Mammi?” Mamm asked.
“Out in the garden.”
“Perhaps you should go out and help her. Get some fresh air.”
How did a
person tell their mother that they no longer cared about fresh air? “She’s got it okay.”
“Would you like to know where I’ve been?”
Jenna shrugged. She wanted to be interested, but she couldn’t muster up the enthusiasm. “Where?”
“I drove out to see the Lamberts this morning.”
“Is that what happened to your dress?”
“The pup.”
PJ. How she missed his fuzzy paws and sweet disposition. She missed so much about the Lamberts. Including Buddy. Though she would never admit that to anyone. She couldn’t. The Amish liked to talk too much and eventually it would get back to Buddy and he would know what a mess she was over him. She wasn’t completely sure why she didn’t want him to know. She just didn’t.
“He’s a little sweetie,” she said and had to blink back the tears.
“I wouldn’t say that. But you know who is a sweetie?”
“Who?”
“Those babies.”
“The twins.” She missed them all so much. Abbie, Titus, the Kings, and all the animals but most of all—aside from Buddy—it was Carrie and Nancy.
“I say both of them, but there’s one . . . cried the whole time I was there.”
“Nancy.”
“I believe that’s what she said her name was. It was hard to hear over all that wailing. Never heard a child cry like that in all my born days.”
Jenna had been hopeful that when she left, Nancy would keep her more even temper like she had when Jenna was there. But it seemed that wasn’t the case.
“Abbie said she didn’t cry when you were there,” Mamm continued.
“That’s true.”
“So what are you doing here?”
“Well, B—”
“If you say Buddy, I may scream myself.”
“Why? Why would he make you scream?”
“Not him,” Mamm said. “You. If I thought you were hiding out here to keep from facing him, and all the while that little baby needs you, and that family needs your help to get them through . . . well, I would think that I had raised the most selfish child in the district.”
Jenna was on her feet in a second. She wasn’t selfish; she was just trying to protect her heart. But she hadn’t been thinking about anyone but herself. And that was selfish. But she could fix it. And she knew just what to do. “Mamm, can you take me back to the Lamberts’?”
