by Linda Byler
“True. Elijah, no no. Here, give me that.”
Eva got up, reached to take an empty cupcake wrapper out of his hand, which sent him into howls of indignation.
“Give it up, little guy. Here.”
She plopped him in his high chair, upended the Cheerios box onto his tray, and scattered them appealingly.
“You want my honest opinion?”
“I don’t know if I do.”
Outside, the autumn rain slanted in from the northeast, sending brilliant yellow maple leaves into a golden carpet at the foot of the tree. Birds pecked halfheartedly at glistening wet sunflower seeds, and a soggy downy woodpecker hammered away at crumbling suet at the birdfeeder.
It was on a Saturday afternoon, when Lutheran Care sent the night caregiver early, giving Emma a break from her usual routine.
Eva had invited her for pizza, with Elvin being on his annual archery hunting spree.
“Well, it doesn’t matter if you do or if you don’t. Here it is. Don’t go.”
“Why do you say that?”
Emma lifted bewildered eyes, hoping Eva would take pity, come to see it her way.
“Look, there are plenty of red flags planted all over. For one, did it ever occur to you that not many respectful Amish guys, after only knowing you a few days . . .”
“Weeks.”
“Weeks. Whatever. Would come into a bedroom to help make that bed?” Here she lifted both hands and waggled two fingers. “I’m sorry, but I had a problem with that scene all along. Then he got all romantic? Really? To me, that was simply pushing the envelope. And he should have been the one to talk to Roger and Kathy, to come to your defense. To make this right. I mean, of course they weren’t pleased you had a man there overnight! But he could have apologized, said it was all his fault, which it was.”
“But Eva, you don’t understand. Kathy didn’t like me. She was jealous of Ben. She didn’t want us together.”
“A married woman? Now right there is the biggest red flag. Don’t you think Ben could have set her straight, told her he had absolutely no interest? You can’t tell me Ben did not flirt back. Maybe you didn’t see it, maybe it was only when they were out of your sight, but believe me, Ben could have put a stop to her inappropriate affections if he had wanted to.”
Emma toyed with the handle of her coffee cup, her thoughts seeking an avenue of release. No one understood the power of Ben’s attraction, what she had felt with him.
A stiff silence followed. One that was broken only by the cheerios being picked up and dropped by Elijah’s chubby little fingers.
“You want me to like Matt.”
“I’m sorry about that. I thought maybe he would take your mind off Ben, but I didn’t really think it through. I know you would never leave the Amish and he has no plans of returning. Besides, I didn’t know about this Sheila.”
“Do you think he would take me to North Carolina?”
“He might. I mean, not alone. But maybe if Elvin and I could go. We could only go from, say, Friday morning to late Sunday night. You’d have to pay our motel room. We’re broke after that vacation. Boy, people would really talk, traipsing off to the Outer Banks a month after our camping trip.”
Emma smiled. “Call Matt, see what he says. Right now. I’ll watch Elijah.”
So Eva threw a light jacket over her head and ran across the yard to Elvin’s office that housed the lone telephone. A few minutes later she dashed back through the rain, her eyes fairly ablaze with excitement. Yes, he would go, in fact he agreed immediately. Wasn’t that absolutely great?
Emma was more than pleased and began to plan ahead, thrilled to think of the upcoming trip turning into a reality. The thought of seeing Ben was the spontaneous energy that fueled her days until the week arrived.
She told Anna at breakfast the following Monday, who drew down her white brows and pouted into her bowl of rolled oats.
“How long did you say?”
“Just a couple of days,” Emma said, watching the way the light and shadows played on the kitchen wall as the wind tossed leaves in the air outside.
“Two days?”
“Friday afternoon and Saturday. Part of Saturday.”
“I don’t believe you should go.”
“Why not?”
“Because you might drown.”
“I won’t go swimming.”
“I still don’t like it. In the old days, we never went on a car trip. We worked. All day long, six days a week. How do you think my father was so successful with the dry cleaning? We all worked, that’s how.
“I’m sure you did.”
“I did.”
Emma washed dishes and cleaned the stove and refrigerator while Anna took her morning nap, then got on her hands and knees to scrub the tiny kitchen floor. In her head, she planned her wardrobe, what she would pack, what she would wear on the Saturday they would arrive. She knew he would be working, she could hear the shrill saw, the pounding of hammers, Kathy and Roger bent over a sawhorse and plywood table, following the print of the house. It would be awkward to see Kathy again, but that faded in her mind in the light of reuniting with Ben. Like a dream, an undeserved fantasy, she would be allowed to return, look into those eyes and feel anchored by the love she found there. A love meant for two of them, both ready to be married, to serve God the remainder of their days, bringing children into the world, teaching them to love the Lord, to stay in the Amish church and help to build it into the future.
Oh, she would be blessed among women, as the Bible said.
The day came, finally. The air was crisp and cold, leaves swirling haphazardly around the lawn, when the black pickup truck chugged to the door. Matt got out, went around to open the door, just the way he’d done before. This time, he seemed strangely familiar, as if she’d known him for a long time.
The truck was filled with happy banter, four friends who continued a relationship where they’d left off. The miles drained away, and when they stopped for lunch, they were all laughing and talking.
Lunch was relaxed, and Emma felt she could be herself without fear of being judged or ridiculed. Matt watched her from beneath the brim of his baseball hat, his eyes soft. He had made it clear that he thought Ben was crazy, but here Ben was now, coming through for her, inviting her back. The satisfaction of being right and the anticipation of seeing her love, of the glad embrace they would share when she showed up, lit up her eyes and gave her whole being a happy glow.
Matt had tried to get Emma out of his mind. He’d even opened old avenues of prayer that hadn’t been used in a decade. He didn’t really believe God would listen to his prayers, but he figured it didn’t hurt to try.
He knew she loved someone else, and yet he could not forget her. In fact, he had fallen for her pretty hard. He even imagined returning to his roots, the church services and the Pennsylvania Dutch, the rules and regulations. Emma was unlike anyone he had ever met before. He had realized that while they were together, but when he returned home after their camping trip, he felt it even more keenly. He missed her quick wit, her strong views, her bright eyes. He missed drinking coffee together by the campfire, discussing politics, making her laugh.
He had gone to visit his adoptive parents. He’d walked into his old room, wandered around the farm, and searched his soul for a reason not to come back and make his parents proud. He’d looked at the eighth grade diploma from Hickory Lane School, hanging there on the wall above his bookcase like a sign of his past.
He’d been born into the world to a mother who was not yet sixteen, and given up for adoption. His adoptive parents had raised him lovingly, showering him with privileges and affection, leveling it all out with good old-fashioned discipline. When he discovered he wasn’t their biological child, they had helped him trace his roots, allowed him to seek the truth, supported his genealogy search.
He was Italian, for the most part. That was where he got the dark hair and skin. His father was a boxer, of sorts, in some area of the Bronx. He hadn�
�t been able to get in touch with him, but he did meet his mother. She was a shy woman, short of stature, black-haired, courteous, but she hadn’t shown him any affection. She told him she was glad to see him, but that he did not want to live in Harlem, that New York City was no place for an Amish boy. He told her he wasn’t Amish anymore, that he’d live with her, take care of her. She told him to go back where he came from and to have a good life, and that she meant it. She said he didn’t want the kind of life she lived.
So he’d driven out of New York City in his black Volkswagen with the music turned high and the Statue of Liberty to his left with the glistening waters of the Hudson Bay and the sun on his shoulders, determined to get on with his life. What else was there to do?
He settled into an apartment close to Smoketown and continued the job he’d always had. He liked delivering and setting up all sorts of storage sheds and garages, playhouses and gazebos. It was good work and he got along well with the crew, so why leave? Plus, the pay was good and his savings account had swelled to a sizable amount.
Working hard and enjoying weekends however he felt like it had kept him pretty content for the last decade. But since the camping trip, he had felt lonely and disoriented, a little lost. And so when Eva had called, asking if he wanted to drive them to North Carolina, he had said yes without even considering that he’d be putting himself through more heartache, watching Emma chase after the love of her life. But at least he’d get to be with her for the trip. And although he wasn’t eager to meet this Ben character, he did feel some protective instinct to make sure he wasn’t a total jerk. Maybe if he saw Emma happily reunited with a really great guy, if he could be sure he’d love her the way she deserved to be loved, then he’d be able to let her go and return to life as a free man, a hardworking, worldly bachelor. At least he would try.
They arrived at the bridge that led to the Outer Banks in late afternoon. Emma became quiet, pensive, her face pale and upset.
“You know where you’re going?” Elvin asked over his shoulder.
“I do. Keep going. You can see the ocean before too long. Bay on the other side. Um . . . Matt, do you mind stopping somewhere so I could, you know, freshen up?”
He pulled into the parking lot of a gas station, peering through the glass of the convenience store and noting the half-asleep figure behind a plywood counter. The bathroom was accessible and fairly clean, for which Emma was thankful. With shaking hands, she brought out her fine-toothed comb, a small travel-size hair spray, and proceeded to alter her travel-worn appearance.
When she returned, Matt did not glance at her, merely asked if everyone was set before starting up and driving off. Emma noticed the lack of conversation, and thought perhaps everyone was exhausted, like Elijah, who was whining and throwing his toys on the floor.
There were a few exclamations when they got their first glimpse of the ocean, but in general everyone was acting as if they were going to a funeral. Well, it was understandable, the way they all disapproved of her actions, coming all this way to meet Ben.
As the road wound between the two bodies of water, the familiar scent wafted through half-open windows. Grasses and scrubby pines gave way to sand dunes, wooden slat fences, an upended dinghy, with water everywhere.
“Another mile,” Emma said, breathless now.
No one replied, so she said it again, only a bit louder.
“Sure, yeah,” Matt answered. “Right or left?”
“Left.”
And then they reached the end of the drive, crunched their way to the house with the massive front steps, the structure supported on the thick piles. The dull thumping of the waves greeted them, the grasses bending and swaying like hula dancers, the screaming seagulls dipping and cavorting in the skies.
A child shouted somewhere by the ocean, another answered.
There was no welcoming golden light from the rectangular windows, no white SUV parked in the driveway.
“They’re likely over at the new house,” Emma said, her voice barely above a hoarse whisper.
“You want me to drive over?”
“No. No, I’ll go.”
She was out of the truck like a vapor, disappearing around the corner of the house.
Emma’s heart was banging in her chest, so that she held a hand to it, palm down, to steady herself before knocking on the huge door. She saw the white SUV then, parked at an angle in the carport below the house.
She knocked again. When no one answered, she held her hands to the side of her face to peer through the glass door. The interior of the house appeared to be nearing completion. Maybe they had moved in already. Soon, Ben would be coming home, or going home to Lancaster County.
The idea of a future with him lent wings to her feet as she ran down the steps, eager to check the adjoining house one more time. The car was here, so someone had to be around somewhere.
She turned to the sight of the wooden walkway, the familiar grasses that rustled in the sea breeze, the romance that was sure to follow. When had she ever felt such confidence, such solid hope? She inhaled deeply, the scent of salt water, the endless sand, watched as the gulls cried and lifted their wings at someone’s approach.
Someone . . . wait.
It was Ben, a shirt flapping loosely around his swimming trunks, a towel draped across his shoulders. Her glad cry caught in her throat at the sight of small, blond Kathy, a white cover-up belted around her swimsuit, their hands entwined.
She was halfway up the stairs to the house, and for a moment, shock sent her sense reeling, so that she clung to the railing. She felt the prick of a sharp splinter from the weathered wood, which brought everything into focus.
Her first instinct was to flee, to become invisible. She turned to make her way down the stairs and back to the truck, before a grim determination made her stop. She would not slink away like some guilty varmint.
Slowly, her feet like a dead weight, she made her way to the top of the stairs to turn in their direction, her bright skirt billowing in the strong breeze.
How long till he spied her?
She didn’t know, but at the time, it seemed like an eternity, a time when she experienced the deep and awful sinking of her hopes and dreams. Her heart had been wrong, and her friends and family right. Her love had been a folly, an attraction meant to be dashed to the ground.
He caught sight of her. She waved, a pathetic, faltering lift of her right hand. He turned to speak to Kathy, released her hand.
On they came. A large gull that dipped close, his yellow eyes accusing her of invading the world that had never been hers.
“Hey,” Ben called out, his eyes never leaving her face.
Slowly, she made her way down the stairs, her head spinning as her breathing came in short gasps. She stood, leaning on the post at the bottom of the stairs for support, said hello.
“Hi, Emma. Imagine seeing you here,” Kathy trilled.
She ignored her, turned her eyes to Ben.
“You asked me to come here,” she grated, low and ominous.
“I did?”
“You wrote to me.”
“Oh, right. I felt badly about how things ended and wanted to make things right.”
“Make what right?”
“You know, our fling. Whatever it was.”
He was uneasy, stepping from one bare foot to another.
Kathy seemed at ease, smiling at Emma with unbelievable audacity as Ben fumbled his excuses, guilty and miserable as Emma stood firm, her eyes burning with the hurt that only a flagrant display of betrayal can achieve.
“You can stay with use for a while,” said Kathy, eagerly, like she really meant it. “You know there are no hard feelings. Roger will be back with the kids tomorrow afternoon. They’d love to see you again. Do stay for a few days. How did you get here?” She bent backward to peer around the stairs.
“Oh, you brought friends. Do tell them to come in. We’ll throw something on the grill, have a party!”
Emma was dumbfounded. It
took her a moment, but when she spoke her voice was strong. “I don’t think so. I’ll be leaving directly. Ben, you know what you are doing is wrong. I hope you can live with yourself the rest of your days.”
His face was a bland mask of denial, a mockery of feigned innocence. Kathy smiled sweetly, but Emma could feel the undercurrent of victory.
Emma pushed past them, her walk to the truck hindered by the loose sand that constantly blew in around the piles. She reached for the door handle, yanked it open, sat down hard and said, “Go.”
No one spoke. Matt turned the truck back to the road, turned right onto the macadam, and moved off slowly. Eva cast a sideways glance at her friend, who was as pale as she had ever seen her, the freckles on her nose like bits of copper paint. Her eyes were large and dark, giving nothing away.
Matt drove steadily as the sun slid lower toward the sea. The bay rippled and glistened, the white sails on the small sailboats like handkerchiefs floating above the water. A large fish crane lifted off, flapped its immense wings with a slow, graceful movement, as if it were waving a sad goodbye.
They stayed in the town of Point Harbor for one night.
Emma booked a separate room for herself, knowing she needed space. She did not speak to anyone but was like a shadow, a wisp of fog. When everyone discussed a place to eat, she felt the bile rise in her throat.
“You okay?” Eva whispered, grabbing her hand and squeezing. Emma nodded.
The table in the quaint restaurant was round, and Emma found Matt across from her, the moving lights of boats coming in to the docks illuminating the background, so that his face was often in shadow, with the dim yellow lights that hung above the table. For this, she was grateful.
Elvin kept the conversation going with comments about the prices on the menu, the unusual items, and how he’d love to live here.
“We could move down here. Start an Amish settlement, couldn’t we?” he chortled, lifting his drink and wiping the tabletop with his napkin.
“Elvin, seriously. Do you have any idea what a house would cost here? And how would you make a living?” Eva asked, always the realist.
